ENA  AND  THE 
KS  OF  THE  SINU 


(NINGHAME  GRAHAM 


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CARTAGENA 

AND  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  SINti 


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R.  B.  CUNNINGHAME  GRAHAM  ON  "  LUCERO,   CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS. 


CARTAGENA   AND    THE 
BANKS    OF   THE   SINU 


R.   Bf"  CUNNINGHAME  GRAHAM 

AUTHOR   OT   **A    BRAZILIAN   MYSTIC,"    ETC 


NEW  YORK  :   GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
LONDON:    WILLIAM    HEINEMANN 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


A    LA    ILUSTRE    SENORITA 

CAMILA    WALTERS, 

DE   CARTAGENA    DE   INDIAS,    CON    EL    HOMENAGE 
DE    MI    ADMIRACION    Y    AMISTAD    SINCERAS. 


CARTAGENA   DE   INDIAS 

Morne  ville  jadis  reine  des  Oceans  ; 
Aujourd'hui  le  requin  poursuit  en  paix  les  scombres 
Et  le  nuage  errant  allonge  seul  les  ombres. 
Sur  ta  rade  ou  roulaient  les  galions  geants. 

Depuis  Drake  et  l'assaut  des  Anglais  mecreants 
Tes  murs  desempares  croulent  en  noirs  decombres 
Et,  comme  un  glorieux  collier  de  pedes  sombres 
Les  boulets  de  Pointis  montrent  les  trous  beants. 

Entre  le  ciel  qui  brule  et  la  mer  qui  moutonne 

Au  somnolent  soleil  d'un  midi  monotone 

Tu  songes  6  Guerriere  aux  vieux  conquistadors. 

Et  dans  l'enervement  des  nuits  chaudes  et  calmes 

Bercant  ta  gloire  eteinte,  6  cit6  tu  t'endors 

Sous  les  palmiers,  un  long  fremissement  des  palmes. 

JOSE  MARIA  DE  HEREDIA 


vu 


PREFACE 

Nothing  could  possibly  have  been  a  better  corrective 
to  the  atmosphere  of  war,  the  excited  newspapers,  the 
people  ever  on  the  lookout  for  news,  the  accounts  of 
hardships,  heroism,  and  death  at  the  front,  and  the 
oceans  of  false  sentiment  at  home,  than  a  visit  to 
Cartagena  and  the  Sinu.  Little  enough  the  people 
there  were  stirred  by  war  news,  though  they  regarded  it 
with  a  mild  curiosity,  tempered  by  lack  of  faith  in  most 
of  what  they  heard.  True  it  was  that  several  German 
steamers  lay  in  the  bay,  blistered  by  the  sun  and 
dirty,  their  plates  expanding  and  their  paint  dropping 
off  in  scales.  The  people  looked  at  them  at  first  and 
then  took  them  apparently  just  as  they  take  their  city 
and  their  lives,  as  sent  by  God,  and  therefore  not  to  be 
questioned  by  mankind.  They  heard  the  news  of  the 
suicide  of  a  German  mate,  unable  to  endure  the 
monotony  on  board,  and  remarked,  "  Pobrecito." 
That  was  his  epitaph.  Certainly  it  was  fitting  for  his 
death — or,  rather,  his  escape  from  life.  After  a  week 
or  two  within  the  walls  of  the  "  unconquered  city  " 
one  felt  that  there  possibly  might  be  a  war,  up  some- 
where in  the  clouds,  but  that  it  did  not  matter  much. 
In  fact,  one  soon  assumed  the  attitude  of  a  man  who 
passes  by  an  ant-hill  and  sees  the  toiling  multitudes 
beneath  his  feet,  and  then  walks  on,  smoking  a 
cigarette,  and  thinking  that  it  is  a  fine  day. 

ix 


x  PREFACE 

In  the  bay  lay  a  little  warship  built  at  Pola,  that 
once  had  constituted  the  navy  of  Morocco  under  the 
name  of  the  Bashir.  Now  she  was  still  the  back- 
bone of  a  naval  force,  that  of  Colombia.  I  knew  her 
at  a  glance,  with  hei  straight  bow  and  air  of  cranki- 
ness, and  remembered  having  gone  aboard  her  at 
Tangier.  The  sentry  who  was  squatted  at  the 
gangway  invited  me  to  go  down  to  the  w  cafe,"  and 
this  I  found  to  be  the  captain's  cabin.  It  was  fitted  up 
with  little  tables,  and  at  a  charcoal  stove  a  "  khawarji " 
was  making  coffee.  Innumerable  cages  filled  with 
canary-birds  were  hung  about,  their  occupants  singing 
their  loudest  all  the  time.  I  thought  I  had  seldom 
seen  a  warship  so  perfectly  transformed,  but  I  had 
still  something  to  learn  upon  the  point.  What  the 
Bashir  was  called  in  Cartagena  I  forget  ;  but  when  I 
went  on  board  her  a  vampire  bat  was  hanging  in  a 
deserted  alleyway;  her  decks  were  scorching,  and  an 
old  negro,  fishing  from  the  stern,  was  all  her  comple- 
ment. Somebody  bought  her  (I  think  a  Yankee 
speculator  of  some  sort),  and  she  was  towed  away 
eventually,  towards  some  port  unknown.  She  may 
have  reached  it.  I  hardly  think  so,  but  I  hope  it  was 
a  port  in  Central  America,  and  that  she  still  floats 
and  is  considered  the  chief  defence  at  sea  of  some 
republic — for  choice  a  state  that  has  no  seaboard — 
and  that  she  is  commanded  from  afar  by  telephone. 

The  old,  white  town,  looking  like  a  gigantic 
wedding-cake,  preserved  miraculously  against  the 
assaults  of  time  to  celebrate  its  double  marriage,  that 
of  Europe  with  Salvagia  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  its 
approaching  union  with  the  modern  world,  appeared 


PREFACE  xi 

to  slumber  quite  incurious  of  wars,  of  tottering 
empires,  of  air-raids,  poison  gas,  and  all  the  benefits 
that  civilization  has  entailed  on  a  glad  world.  The 
whispering  palm-trees  sang  the  dirge  of  its  departed 
glories,  made  musical  like  Eolian  harps  by  the 
soft  breezes  from  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Still,  its 
sleep  was  now  and  then  disturbed  by  events  that 
linked  it  to  the  bloodthirsty  world  of  Europe, 
the  land  where  all  men's  hands  were  raised  against 
their  fellows  in  the  name  of  Christianity  and  peace. 
Well  have  we  played  the  part  of  helot  to  the  republics 
of  the  Southern  Hemisphere,  and  taught  them  that  all 
our  criticism  of  their  poor,  futile  revolutions,  so  sparing 
of  the  sacrifice  of  life,  so  careful  to  respect  the  honour 
of  the  home,  have  been  but  child's  play,  compared  to 
our  own  bloody  sport. 

Even  to  Cartagena  there  came  echoes  of  the  war. 
An  old,  condemned  stern-wheeler,  lofty  of  side,  beam- 
engined,  crank  as  a  coracle,  and  quite  unseaworthy, 
had  lain  for  three  years  in  the  mud  at  Maracaibo. 
Her  seams  all  gaped,  her  paint  was  cracked  and 
blistered  by  the  sun,  her  engines  rusty,  and  round  her 
garboard  strakes  festoons  of  seaweed  had  gathered 
into  a  veritable  forest,  clinging  to  the  barnacles. 
What  her  name  had  been  when  she  toiled  up  against 
the  muddy  waters  of  the  Mississippi  I  cannot  tell. 
The  company  that  bought  her  named  her  the  Santa 
Barbara.  They  set  her  to  run  from  Cartagena  to 
Quibdo,  the  capital  of  the  Choco,  up  the  Atrato  River, 
and  down  the  coast,  touching  at  Tolu,  Cispata,  and 
other  little  ports,  after  a  summary  repair.  Paint  hid 
the    opening    seams.     The    rusty   engines    had    been 


xii  PREFACE 

greased  and  oiled,  and  the  great  beam  worked  jerkily. 
Her  top  hamper  was  great,  her  freeboard  low.  Boats 
she  possessed  but  one,  hung  near  the  stern,  and  used  to 
keep  potatoes,  yams,  or  vegetables,  or  as  a  sleeping- 
place  for  deck  hands  or  a  chance  negro  passenger. 
Her  engine-room  was  almost  open,  after  the  fashion 
of  old-time,  Yankee  river-boats.  Nothing  could  well 
have  been  imagined  more  unfit  to  cope  with  the  rough 
waters  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  or  round  the  Point  ot 
Tigua,  fifteen  leagues  upon  her  way  towards  theChoco, 
for  there  a  heavy  sea  gets  up  at  the  least  breeze. 
Passengers  always  crowded  her,  sleeping  in  every 
corner,  curled  up  upon  the  deck,  or  in  the  hammocks 
that  Colombians  nearly  always  carry  with  them,  hung 
to  the  stanchions  of  the  awning-rail.  Some  few — 
mostly  rich  Syrian  storekeepers — going  to  Quibdo,  or 
mining  engineers  for  the  great  platinum  mines  in 
the  Choco,  secured  the  boxlike  dens  called  cabins  by 
antonomasy.  She  usually  was  laden  to  within  a  foot  ot 
her  low  freeboard,  and  all  the  decks  were  crowded 
with  boxes,  trunks,  bundles,  saddles,  bales,  and 
packages  of  goods. 

Her  crew  were  negroes  and  nondescripts,  and  her 
engineer,  of  course,  a  Scotsman,  known  as  Scottie, 
stricken  in  drink  and  years;  but  capable  and  brave 
to  rashness,  as  he  had  proved  a  hundred  times  by 
venturing  his  life  in  such  a  Babylonia  as  was  the 
rechristened  Santa  Barbara.  That  nothing  should 
be  wanting,  and  that  the  link  should  be  supplied 
between  this  antique  vessel  worthy  to  have  convoyed 
La  Pinta  and  La  Santa  Maria  in  their  memorable 
voyage  from  Palos,  had  they  not  outsailed  her,  a  young 


PREFACE  xiii 

German  mate,  from  one  of  the  Boche  steamers, 
interned  in  the  bay,  acted  as  captain.  He  proved 
himself  a  sailor  and  a  man.  The  Santa  Barbara, 
after  the  usual  delay  of  several  hours,  cleared  out  of 
Cartagena  in  a  calm  afternoon.  She  passed  into  the 
Cano,1  at  whose  mouth  the  village  of  Pasacaballos  is 
situated ;  then  out  into  the  great  lagoon  beyond  it. 
There,  she  met  the  gale  that  seems  to  have  been 
blowing  since  the  days  of  the  Conquistadores,  and  is 
most  likely  blowing  as  I  write.  She  rolled  like  a 
galleon,  the  heavy  uppendecks  catching  the  wind  like 
sails.  Seas  came  aboard  of  her  and  set  the  packages 
and  bales  upon  her  decks  awash.  The  miserable 
passengers  were  soaked,  and  as  the  evening  advanced 
the  seas  grew  heavier,  and  still  the  Point  of  Tigua 
loomed  a  league  or  two  in  front  of  her  as  she  lay 
labouring  in  the  sea. 

The  German  captain  dived  into  the  engine-room 
and  then  emerged  without  his  cap,  his  hair  tossed  in 
the  wind,  and  scanned  the  horizon  anxiously.  After  a 
look  about  the  deck,  and  a  compassionate  glance  at  the 
soaked  passengers  rendering  their  tribute  to  Neptune, 
he  took  his  resolution.  Advancing  to  an  Englishman 
who  was  sheltering  behind  a  deckhouse,  he  drew  his 
feet  together,  clicked  his  heels,  and  said,  "  My  name 
is  Einstein,  Second-Lieutenant  of  the  Reserve  of 
German  Navy,"  and  raised  his  fingers  mechanically, 
forgetting  he  had  lost  his  cap.  "  We  are  at  war,"  he 
said  ;  "but  what  of  that  ? — no  one  cares  to  die  without 
a  fight.  You  see  that  headland  ?  It  is  the  Point  of 
Tigua.  The  sea  is  breaking  heavily  upon  it,  and  if 
1  Passage  between  mangrove  swamps. 


xiv  PREFACE 

we  drift  there  we  are  lost.  Only  a  month  ago  a 
steamer  failed  to  weather  it,  and  not  a  soul  was  saved. 
Those  that  were  not  dashed  on  the  rocks,  the 
sharks  soon  tore  to  pieces.  Upon  the  other  side  of  it 
we  shall  be  in  shelter  ;  but  the  swine  firemen  are 
frightened  and  refuse  to  work.  Come  down  with  me, 
and  .  .  .  ah,  that  is  right,  you  have  a  pistol  :  we  will 
help  Scottie  to  persuade  them  to  work  on." 

The  Englishman,  muttering  "  All  right,"  went 
down  below  into  the  engine-room.  The  firemen, 
huddled  in  a  heap,  had  turned  that  ashy-grey  colour  that 
comes  into  a  negro's  face  at  the  approach  of  death,  or 
strongly  moved  by  fear.  A  foot  or  two  from  the 
ship's  furnaces  the  water  lapped  up  dangerously. 
Holding  their  pistols  in  their  hands,  the  enemies,  made 
comrades  by  the  deadly  peril  they  were  in,  distributed 
a  hearty  kick  or  two  and  forced  the  negroes  to  fire  up. 

When  they  had  passed  the  Point  of  Tigua,  and 
the  old  Santa  Barbara  had  got  under  shelter,  shaking 
the  water  off  her  decks,  as  a  Newfoundland  dog 
shakes  himself  on  emerging  from  a  swim,  they  left  the 
engine-room  and  came  up  on  deck.  The  two  men 
looked  at  one  another  and  said  nothing,  and  then  instinc- 
tively their  hands  stole  out  towards  each  other.  The 
Englishman,  half  shyly,  muttered,  "  You  are  a  damned 
good  Boche.     My  name  is  Brown." 

R.  B.  CUNNINGHAME  GRAHAM. 


CARTAGENA 

AND  THE   BANKS   OF  THE   SINU 

CHAPTER  I 

The  great  Colombian  province,  known  as  El  De- 
partamento  de  Bolivar,  though  it  has  an  extent  of 
41,000  square  miles,  is  but  little  known  to  the  outside 
world.  It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  Caribbean 
Sea  and  the  department  of  Atlantico,  on  the  south 
by  the  department  of  Antioquia,  on  the  east  by  the 
departments  of  Santander  and  Magdalena,  and  on  the 
west  by  the  Caribbean  Sea.  The  chief  towns  are 
Cartagena  (the  capital),  Arjona,  Calamar,  Santiago 
de  Tolu,  El  Carmen,  Corozal,  Chinu,  Magangue, 
Monteria,  Sincelejo,  and  Lorica. 

The  ports  are  Cartagena,  Tolu,  Cobenas,  Cispata, 
and  Magangue,  all  on  the  Caribbean  Sea,  except  the 
port  of  Magangue,  situated  on  the  Magdalena  River, 
not  far  from  its  junction  with  the  Rivers  San  Jorge 
and  Cauca.  So  little  visited  is  the  district  that  few 
Colombians  ever  go  there  except  called  by  business. 
Lying  within  the  tropics,  Cartagena,  the  capital,  is  in 
latitude  10  degrees  north.1 

1  Herrera,  in  his  "  Historia  General  de  Espana,"  says  it  is  just 
1,460  leagues  from  Toledo.  This  may  be  so.  As  the  Arab  saying 
runs :  "  My  donkey's  off  forefoot  stands  right  over  the  centre  of  the 
world.     If  you  do  not  believe  me,  go  and  measure  for  yourself." 

1  1 


2  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

The  soil  is  rich  and  the  climate  healthy.  Though 
it  was  the  first  of  the  provinces  of  the  kingdom  of 
New  Granada,  now  the  republic  of  Colombia,  to  be 
colonized  by  the  Spaniards,  various  circumstances  have 
contributed  to  make  it  neglected  by  the  inhabitants 
of  the  republic  and  but  rarely  visited  by  foreigners 
up  to  the  present  day. 

Rich  in  all  tropical  products,  with  extensive  pastures 
for  countless  herds  of  cattle,  full  of  mineral  wealth — 
the  platinum  mines  near  Quibdo  are  renowned  all  the 
world  over — the  department  of  Bolivar  is  one  of  the 
richest  of  the  republic  of  Colombia.  However,  at 
the  conquest,  the  stream  of  colonization  steadily  set 
towards  the  cooler  lands  of  the  interior.  The  same 
thing  happened  in  the  republic  of  Ecuador,  and  to 
a  less  degree  in  Mexico. 

In  Colombia  and  in  the  other  two  republics  there 
had  been  great  Indian  towns  where  now  the  capitals 
are  situated.  The  cooler  climate  and  the  search  for 
gold,  never  to  be  found  close  to  the  coast,  had  set  the 
stream  to  the  interior.  Thus,  in  Colombia  and 
Ecuador,  the  far  interior  was  sooner  civilized  than 
was  the  coast.  This  brought  about  a  sort  of  atrophy 
of  civilization  in  the  distant  places,  where  it  had  been 
established  first.  Old  customs  were  preserved,  old 
forms  of  speech,  and,  in  the  main,  old  ways  of  thought. 

The  coastal  provinces,  neglected  at  the  first  conquest 
of  the  country,  in  many  instances  have  now  become 
far  more  progressive  than  the  capitals.  This  does  not 
apply  to  the  department  of  Bolivar.  Although  less 
than  three  hundred  miles  from  Panama,  with  its  most 
modern  life,  its  great  canal,  its  position,  which  must 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  3 

make  it  one  day  the  lock-gate  through  which  will 
pass  the  greatest  flood  of  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
the  province  slumbers  in  an  old-world  repose.  Flat 
in  the  main,  with  but  one  considerable  range  of 
hills,  that  only  rise  some  eight  to  nine  hundred  feet, 
the  whole  face  of  the  country,  with  the  exception  of 
the  celebrated  plains  known  as  Los  Llanos  de  Corozal, 
was  at  one  time  covered  with  virgin  forests.  A  great 
part  is  so  still.  Two  rivers  traverse  the  whole 
province,  in  almost  its  entire  length.  One,  the  Sinu, 
rises  in  the  mountains  of  Antioquia  and  falls  into  the 
Caribbean  Sea  at  the  port  of  Cispata,  its  mouth 
forming  a  sheltered  bay.  The  other,  the  Rio  San 
Jorge,  falls  into  the  Magdalena,  near  its  junction  with 
the  Rio  Cauca,  not  far  from  the  town  of  Magangue. 

The  open  plains  lie  between  the  two  rivers,  and 
nearing  the  San  Jorge  are  the  extensive  marshes  of 
Ayapel,  in  which  feed  cattle  when  the  plains  are 
parched  with  drought. 

The  climate,  hot  but  healthy,  is  that  of  most  parts 
of  the  tropics,  having  but  two  seasons,  the  wet  and  dry. 
In  Colombia  they  are  referred  to  as  summer  and  winter ; 
but  in  reality  the  winter — that  is,  the  season  of  the 
rains — is  the  hotter  of  the  two.  The  thermometer 
ranges  between  one  hundred  and  five  and  seventy-five 
degrees.  Frost  is  unknown,  and  hurricanes  seldom 
or  never  are  experienced  except  upon  the  coast. 
The  chief  town  is  the  capital,  Cartagena,  called 
Cartagena  de  Indias  to  distinguish  it  from  the  city  of 
that  name  in  Spain.  The  ancient  capital  was  Santiago 
de  Tolu,  known  for  its  balsam  extracted  from  a  plant 
that  grew  profusely  there,  at  the  first  conquest  of  the 


4  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

land.  Situated  about  thirty  miles  from  Cartagena 
upon  a  little  bay,  it  is  a  well-built,  old-fashioned 
Spanish  colonial  town.  Its  sandy  streets,  deserted  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the  whole  population 
sleeps,  bake  in  the  sun,  reflecting  back  its  rays  a 
hundredfold.  The  low  and  flat-roofed  houses  seem 
uninhabited,  and  nothing  moves,  except  a  vulture  now 
and  then,  that  stretches  out  its  wings  and  flutters  them, 
as  if  rejoicing  in  the  heat. 

In  the  evening,  the  houses,  so  to  speak,  give  up 
their  dead,  and  by  degrees,  men  dressed  in  white,  with 
jipi-japa  hats,  open  their  stores,  and  sit  perspiring  in 
their  shirt-sleeves,  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  that  is 
not  urgent  in  its  claims.  The  sun  sinks  lower  and 
disappears,  a  ball  of  fire,  into  the  lagoon,  and  in  the 
little  plaza,  girls  stroll  about  accompanied  by  mothers 
or  by  aunts,  and  gossip  with  the  more  or  less 
embattled  youths  and  men.  Perhaps  a  man  on  horse- 
back crosses  the  plaza  at  the  fast  shuffling,  artificial 
pace  known  in  Colombia  as  "  el  paso,"  the  rider 
sitting  easily  and  upright  in  his  saddle,  after  the 
fashion  of  all  Spanish  Americans,  who  ride  almost  as 
soon  as  they  can  walk. 

"There  goes  Don  Placido,"  or  "Serior  Valenzuela," 
as  the  case  may  be,  someone  remarks.  Don  Placido, 
seeing  he  is  observed,  recollects  he  has  forgotten 
something  at  the  corner  store.  Then,  taking  his  horse 
well  by  the  head,  he  spurs  it  surreptitiously  on  the  off 
side,  making  it  plunge,  and  then  dropping  his  hat  he 
pretends  to  be  annoyed,  and  stooping  from  the  saddle 
picks  it  up  gracefully,  regains  his  seat  as  easily  as  if 
he  were  a  circus-rider,  talks  for  a  moment  to   the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  5 

storekeeper,  and  once  again  crosses  the  square,  this 
time  at  the  best  pace  his  horse  can  muster  up. 

The  sea  breeze  setting  in  brings  with  it  a  little 
fleet  of  tapering  canoes,  all  hollowed  out  of  a  tree 
trunk,  piled  up  with  plantains,  mangoes,  bananas,  pine- 
apples, and  caimitos,  with  their  dull  metallic  leaves, 
green  on  one  side  and  brown  upon  the  back.  Their 
leaves,  indeed,  have  given  rise  to  a  local  saying  about 
a  double-dealing  man,  "  You  are  like  the  leaf  of  the 
caimito — fair  upon  one  side,  on  the  other  black."1 
The  other  towns  each  have  their  characteristics, 
determined  chiefly  by  their  situation  and  their  trade. 

Lorica,  on  the  Sinu,  the  chief  town  of  the  cattle- 
breeding  district,  was  called  after  an  Indian  chief  of 
the  same  name.  Built  on  the  high  and  muddy  bank 
of  an  alluvial  river  that  flows  dark  yellow  like  the 
Tiber,  it  is  a  port  for  the  canoes  of  all  the  district  on 
the  river's  banks.  The  market-place,  in  which  sit 
countless  people  of  colour  dressed  in  white,  overhangs 
the  river,  and  on  a  market-day  hundreds  of  canoes, 
piled  up  with  country  produce,  jostle  each  other  on  the 
bank.  Men  step  from  one  to  the  other,  performing 
miracles  of  equilibrium,  passing  from  the  outermost 
crank,  little  embarkation,  over  ten  or  a  dozen  others, 
till  they  reach  the  bank.  The  smallest  loss  of  balance 
would  overset  the  canoe  and  all  its  merchandise ;  but 
long  experience  enables  them  to  walk  as  easily  over 
the  swaying  bridge  of  slender  dugouts,  as  they  would 
walk  upon  dry  land. 

The  great  church  forms  the  centre  of  the  town. 

1  The  caimito  is  known  in  the  West  Indies  as  the  star  apple. 
It  is  the  Chrysophyllum  caimito  of  botany. 


6  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Built  in  a  sort  of  nondescript,  but  not  unpicturesque, 
style,  common  in  Colombia,  the  door  stands  always 
open,  giving  a  glimpse  of  a  great,  cool,  and  empty 
floor,  very  inviting  to  worshippers  who  have  sweltered 
all  the  morning  in  the  sun.  On  each  side  of  the 
door  grows  a  tall  palm-tree,  whose  leaves  rustle  an 
introit  at  the  faintest  breeze  that  stirs  their  fronds. 

Outside  the  walls  and  all  along  them  are  planted 
other  palms,  so  that  the  church  rises  from  out  a  verit- 
able grove.  As  all  Colombia  is  a  land  of  priests 
and  pious  laymen,  or  at  the  least  of  outward,  visible 
conformity,  the  church's  bells  are  seldom  still  for 
more  than  a  full  hour,  from  Angelus  to  Angelus. 
Although  the  congregation  may  not  consist  of 
more  than  a  few  devout  negro  women  or  half- 
Indian  cattle  peons,  the  service,  ad  majorem  Dei 
gloriam,  still  takes  its  course.  On  Sundays  the 
whole  edifice  is  thronged  at  the  chief  Mass.  A 
congregation  dressed  in  white,  holding  its  panama 
straw  hats  in  its  brown  hands,  packs  all  the  floor. 
The  women  kneel  or  sit  down  sideways  on  the 
floor,  just  as  they  do  in  Seville  or  in  Cordoba.  The 
men  stand  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and 
at  the  altar  the  perspiring  priest,  choked  in  his  rich 
embroidered  cope,  goes  through  his  genuflections 
with  as  little  energy  as  he  can  well  expend.  As  a 
general  rule  he  is  a  Spaniard  or  an  Italian,  sometimes 
a  Syrian  ;  but  in  all  cases  the  coloured  population 
pays  him  more  reverence  than  a  cardinal  receives  in 
Rome,  hard  by  the  Vatican. 

Two  or  three  crumbling  Spanish  houses  give  a 
character  as  of  the  Old  World  to  the  narrow  plaza  at 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  7 

whose  corner,  opposite  the  church,  stands  the  great 
modern  house  of  the  chief  family,  but  built  entirely 
in  the  ancient  style,  so  fitting  to  the  climate  and  the 
life.  Its  patios  and  open  galleries,  its  well  at  which  a 
negro  seems  to  pass  his  life  drawing  up  buckets  with  a 
chain,  give  a  strange  flavour  of  Castile. 

Stores  in  which  everything  is  sold,  from  bits  and 
reins  to  China  silks  and  prints  from  Manchester,  are 
the  chief  features  of  the  streets.  In  them  sit  all  the 
representatives  of  the  chief  families,  for  trade  in  the 
republic  of  Colombia,  as  in  the  East,  from  which, 
filtered  through  Spain,  most  of  its  customs  are 
derived,  does  not  detract  from  personal  consequence, 
and  a  man  who  can  trace  his  origin  from  the  first 
conquerors,  whose  flocks  and  herds  graze  over  leagues 
of  territory,  sells  you  a  pound  of  tea  with  as  much 
grace  as  he  would  enter  into  business  that  involved  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  in  cattle  or  in  grain. 

Many  of  the  storekeepers  come  from  Syria,  and 
nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear  Arabic  spoken 
and  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  dark-featured  Syrian 
woman  in  the  back  shop,  who,  though  a  Christian 
of  the  Christians,  still  by  the  virtue  of  her  Oriental 
upbringing  draws  back  when  a  strange  man  appears 
upon  the  scene. 

Cattle  peons,  dressed  in  tight  white  trousers  and 
short  jackets,  with  hats  of  dark  brown  straw,  low- 
crowned  and  broad-brimmed,  stroll  about  the  streets, 
taciturn  and  half  Indian  by  blood,  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  voluble  and  lively  negro  population  of  the  coast. 
The  broad  and  sandy  streets,  cut  into  blocks  after  the 
usual  fashion  of  all  towns  in  South  America,  lead  out 


8  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

from  well-built  rows  of  houses  and  stores  packed  to 
the  roofs  with  hides,  with  sugar  hogsheads,  and  with 
grain,  till  by  degrees  they  trickle  past  low  hovels 
thatched  with  banana  leaves,  finally  disappearing  into 
the  network  of  trails  that  lead  into  the  town. 
Thus,  as  in  most  towns  in  Colombia,  it  is  difficult 
to  say  where  the  town  ends  and  the  true  country 
starts. 

Lorica  and  Tolu  may  serve  as  models  for  almost 
any  of  the  towns  in  the  department  of  Bolivar, 
situated  on  the  alluvial  plains.  Sixty  or  seventy 
miles  higher  up  the  river  is  situated  the  purely 
Indian  town  of  Tucura.  Its  inhabitants,  civilized  or 
"reduced,"  as  the  phrase  went,  not  long  after  the 
first  conquest,  are  a  peaceful  race,  short,  strong,  and 
olive-coloured.  Few  of  them  have  retained  more 
than  a  smattering  of  their  native  speech,  but  all  speak 
Spanish.  Still,  they  have  maintained  relations  with 
the  exceedingly  quiet  and  inoffensive  "wild  Indians"1 
in  the  adjoining  woods.  The  "wild"  men  some- 
times stray  into  the  places,  leaving  their  bows  and 
arrows  with  some  storekeeper,  and  walk  about  the 
town  speaking  to  no  one,  keeping  together  in  a 
group,  just  like  wild  horses,  a  pitiful,  pathetic,  and 
dwarfish  remnant  of  the  men  who  once  possessed  the 
land.  They  still  retain  their  terror  of  the  horse,  an 
animal  so  fatal  to  their  ancestors,  and  fly  for  shelter  if 
a  mounted  man  passes  them  suddenly. 

The  River  Sinu  runs  for  about  two  hundred  miles 
through  the  department,  and  is  a  sort  of  Nile  on  a 
small  scale.     In  the  rainy  season  it  overflows  its  banks 

1  "  Indios  bravos." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  9 

for  a  considerable  distance  on  both  sides,  leaving  a 
thick  deposit  of  alluvial  mud.  Then  the  grass  grows 
luxuriantly  and  the  cattle  fatten  quickly,  even 
although  the  drought  has  left  them  thin. 

The  census  of  the  year  1 9 1 2  puts  the  population 
at  420,730,  a  small  proportion  in  respect  of  so  much 
territory.  Upon  the  coast,  and  in  especial  in  the 
town  of  Cartagena,  the  negro  element  prevails,  but  is 
rarely  found  in  any  numbers  more  than  twenty  miles 
inland.  There  the  Indian,  either  pure-blooded  or 
half-bred,  prevails.  In  fact,  he  lives  just  where  his 
ancestors  lived  at  the  first  conquest  of  the  land.  The 
upper  classes  are  in  general  white,  with  in  some 
instances  a  dash  of  negro  or  of  Indian  blood. 

Manners  are  patriarchal,  though  democratic,  as 
always  is  the  case  in  similar  societies.  Contrary  to 
what  is  to  be  observed  in  Northern  Europe,  where 
men  so  often  think  that  rudeness  shows  equality  as 
between  man  and  man,  in  the  remote,  neglected 
district  of  Bolivar,  rudeness  is  held  the  attribute  of 
brutes.  Hence  throughout  all  the  length  and  breadth, 
not  only  of  the  province,  but  of  the  republic  as  a 
whole,  good  manners  are  a  natural  heritage. 

Houses  in  the  interior  are  few  and  far  between, 
except  upon  the  banks  of  the  Sinu,  where  in  some 
places  they  form  a  street  on  both  sides  of  the  stream. 
Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  to  ride  through  one 
of  these  straggling  settlements ;  for  several  miles  are 
cottages  all  made  of  canes  and  pitched  with  mud, 
supporting  roofs  either  of  reeds  from  the  river  banks 
or  of  banana  leaves. 

Here  and  there  steep,  worn  paths  lead  down  into 


io  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  river,  and  at  the  foot  of  them  two  or  three  canoes 
are  certain  to  be  tied,  and  round  them  groups  of 
brown  children  paddle,  but  never  shout  or  scream  after 
the  way  of  children  in  the  north.  Logs  that  look 
nothing  but  dead  logs,  may  endue  themselves  with 
motion  and  become  alligators,  for  logs  and  alligators 
are  hardly  distinguishable  as  they  float  downstream. 
The  children  never  seem  to  notice  them,  but  gambol 
on,  as  if  no  perils,  either  from  them,  from  ray-fish,  or 
the  little  devilish,  sharp-toothed  "caribes,"1  existed  in 
the  world.  Now  and  then  one  hears  a  tale  of  a  child 
carried  off  by  a  "  caiman  " 2  just  as  one  hears  of  children 
killed  by  a  motor-bus.  In  neither  case  are  the  sur- 
vivors rendered  more  wary  by  their  companion's  fate. 

Sometimes  a  man  brings  down  his  horse,  and  stand- 
ing knee  deep  pours  water  from  a  gourd  over  his 
back,  and  then  perhaps,  mounting  him,  swims  a  little, 
looking  like  a  bronze  figure  in  a  fountain ;  then  leads 
him  dripping  up  the  banks. 

Life  seems  to  pass  in  the  fragile  wigwams  much 
as  it  passes  in  an  Arab  tent,  but  more  industriously, 
for  every  dwelling  has  its  yam  and  maize  patch, 
surrounded  bv  a  little  fence  of  canes,  round  which 
twine  passion  flowers  and  other  creepers,  whilst  tall 
bushes  of  bougainvillea,  orange  bignonias,  or  crotons 
with  their  variegated  leaves,  peep  up  above  the  fence. 

1  Carib6  =  cannibal.  These  little  fish,  about  the  size  of  a  dace, 
swarm  in  the  rivers  of  Colombia,  and  are  very  dangerous  to  swimmers. 
Should  anyone  enter  the  water  with  a  cut  on  his  arm  or  leg,  or 
chance  to  get  wounded  whilst  swimming,  his  fate  is  pretty  well 
assured.  The  caribes  come  to  the  scent  of  blood  in  shoals,  and  soon 
either  tear  the  swimmer  to  bits  or  so  disable  him  that  he  drowns. 
They  are  more  feared  than  the  alligators. 

2  Caiman  =  alligator. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  u 

A  patriarchal,  in  a  way  idyllic,  life  goes  on  in  these 
long  streets  of  villages  that  edge  the  river  banks. 

No  one  is  rich  or  poor.  Fuel  and  clothes,  the 
problems  of  the  north,  affect  the  people  little.  The 
earth  yields  crops  with  the  minimum  of  cultivation, 
and  fruit  is  plentiful.  Outwardly  there  seems  to  be 
content ;  but  no  doubt  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  the 
rest  of  the  passions  with  which  men  plague  them- 
selves the  whole  world  over,  are  to  be  found  there,  as 
they  were  in  the  garden  by  the  Tigris,  when  the 
world  was  young. 

In  many  places  virgin  forests  run  down  close  to 
the  river  bank,  forming  an  almost  impenetrable 
barrier  in  their  native  state.  All  sorts  of  trees,  many 
even  to-day  unplagued  by  botanists,  spring  up,  rise 
to  two  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  die,  standing  for 
a  brief  season,  bald  and  sere,  signposts  upon  the  road 
of  time  ;  but  signposts  that  endure  only  the  space  of 
two  or  three  rainy  seasons,  so  rapidly  does  nature 
claim  them  to  fertilize  another  growth. 

The  Ceiba,1  the  Bongo,  and  the  Campano  tower 
above  the  rest,  their  roots,  as  it  were,  awash  in  the 
black  earth,  monstrous  and  gnarled.  Bunches  of 
lilac  flowers  hang  from  the  Ceiba,  as  grapes  hang 
from  a  vine,  and  they  and  all  the  other  trees  are  full 
of  orchids,  and  bound  together  with  a  thick  cordage 
of  lianas,  whose  flowers  burst  into  bloom  above  the 
topmost  branches  of  the  woods. 

The  ground  is  deep  in   the  debris   of  centuries, 

1  Bombax  ceiba.  The  Campano  and  Bongo  are,  I  think,  of  the 
same  family.  The  Bongo  is  the  silk-cotton  of  the  West  Indies, 
Eriodendrum  anfractuosum. 


12  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

and  streams  in  places  run  under  a  tunnel  of  thick 
vegetation.  Where  they  come  to  light,  tortoises 
bask  with  their  heads  emerging  from  the  water,  and 
now  and  then  a  water-snake  slips  across  from  one 
side  to  another,  looking  just  like  a  miniature  sea- 
serpent  as  it  swims  by,  with  head  and  neck  erected  in 
the  air. 

Along  the  banks  of  streams  and  bayous,  as  they 
would  be  called  in  Texas  and  Louisiana,  grow 
clumps  of  guaduas,1  feathery  and  slight.  Silence 
reigns  eternally,  for  the  parrots  and  macaws  fly 
chattering  about  the  edges  of  the  forest  and  never 
penetrate  its  depths.  One  feels  that  nature  is  an 
actual  force,  not  castrated  and  brought  to  heel  by 
man,  as  in  the  countries  men  call  civilized. 

Silence  reigns  through  the  noonday  heat,  and  as 
the  evening  brings  its  freshness  the  howling  monkeys, 
locally  known  as  araguatos,2  begin  their  psalmody. 
The  humming-birds,  macaws,  and  the  white  ibises 
that  frequent  the  marshes,  all  disappear,  and  vampire 
bats  circle  about  on  noiseless  wings,  hideous  and 
menacing. 

The  forest,  with  its  howling  monkeys,  its  jaguars, 
rarely  seen  by  day,  but  when  they  bound  across  an 
open  glade,  its  tapirs  and  carpinchos,3  shy,  semi- 
amphibious  animals  that  only  venture  out  at  evening 
time,  its  flights  of  red  and  blue  macaws  and  bright 
green  parrots  that  hover  chattering  about  the  edge  of 
the  primeval  woods,  the  wealth  of  vegetation  and  the 

1  Bamboos.  2  Simia  ursina. 

3  Hydrochaerus    capybara.     Carpincho    is    the  Argentine   name. 
In  Colombia  the  animal  is  called  ponche,  at  least  in  Bolivar. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  13 

air  of  mystery  and  of  hostility  to  man  that  emanates 
from  the  recesses  of  its  everglades,  is  but  a  portion  of 
the  department  after  all.  Its  wealth  is  centred  in  its 
plains,  natural,  such  as  Los  Llanos  de  Corozal,  or 
artificial,  as  those  about  the  banks  of  the  Sinu  that 
have  been  formed  by  burning  off  the  jungle  and 
sowing  down  the  land  reclaimed  with  the  perennial 
grasses  of  Guinea  and  Para.1 

The  jungle  cleared  by  fire  is  left  just  as  a  clearing 
in  the  woods  is  left  in  Western  America  or  in  Brazil, 
with  all  the  stumps  of  the  charred  trees  standing 
in  a  sea  of  ashes.  The  seed  is  sown  and  springs  up 
after  the  first  rains,  and  soon  the  stumps  rot  and 
decay  away.  The  result  is  excellent  pasture  almost 
the  whole  year  round.  The  fences  are  of  native 
wood,  and  wire,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  pastures 
clumps  of  trees  are  left  for  shelter. 

These  trees  are  the  resort  of  flocks  of  parrots,  and 
as  you  ride  beneath  them  you  are  pretty  sure  to  get 
a  shower  of  broken  twigs  or  nuts  thrown  by  the 
howling  monkeys  or  the  small  grey  sajou,2  who 
gambol  in  the  boughs.  Oviedo,  in  his  "  Historia 
Natural  de  las  Indias,"  says :  "  When  the  Christians 
make  an  expedition  to  the  interior,  and  have  to  pass 
by  woods,  they  ought  to  cover  themselves  well  with 
their  bucklers  .  .  .  for  the  monkeys  throw  down 
nuts  and  branches  at  them."  There  may  have  been 
such  danger  when  there  were  more  monkeys  or  when 

1  Guinea  grass  is  the  well-known  perennial  grass  of  most  tropical 
countries.  Para  is  a  Brazilian  perennial  grass  that  grows  to  three  feet 
in  height ;  both  are  excellent  pasture  for  cattle  and  resist  almost  any 
drought.  2  Simia  sajou. 


i4  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

their  antics  were  less  known  to  "  Christians "  than  they 
are  to-day.  However,  he  goes  on  to  say :  "  I  knew 
one,  Francisco  de  Villacastin,  who  was  a  servant  of 
Pedrarias  Davila,  in  Panama.  This  man  threw  a 
stone  at  a  monkey,1  who  caught  it  and  returned  it 
with  such  force  that  it  knocked  out  four  or  five  of 
Francisco's  teeth.  I  know  this  to  be  true,"  he  says, 
"  for  I  often  saw  the  said  Francisco,  always  without 
his  teeth."2  Waterton,  in  his  "Wanderings  of  a 
Naturalist,"  says  monkeys  never  throw  things  at 
people.  The  Bachiller  Enciso  was  quite  as  good  an 
observer  as  Waterton.  He  declares  they  do  ;  the 
deficiency  in  Francisco's  teeth  surely  goes  for  some- 
thing as  proof. 

The  cattle  stand  underneath  the  trees,  or  wander 
knee  deep  in  the  artificial  grasses  on  the  plains. 

They  are  all  tame  and  do  not  run  before  a  mounted 
man  as  do  the  wilder  herds  of  Venezuela,  Texas,  and 
the  River  Plate.  The  herdsmen  work  them  with  the 
lazo  as  in  the  other  countries  of  America,  both  North 
and  South,  and  they  are  rounded  up  once  or  twice 
weekly  on  to  a  bare  space  called  "  el  rodeo  "  for 
counting,  and  to  examine  them  for  ticks.  Mounted 
on  their  active,  little  horses,  the  herders  round  the 
cattle  up,  just  as  they  do  in  other  cattle  countries. 
They  use  the  saddle  to  be  seen  in  Mexico,  which 
ranges  from  the  far  north  of  Canada  down  to  the 
Amazon  ;  but  never  crosses  it.  Upon  the  other  side  it 
is  replaced  by  the  "recado  "  used  in  the  River  Plate. 

1  Oviedo   writes   "el   gato" —  that   is,   "the  cat."      The   old 
explorers  always  referred  to  monkeys  as  "  gatos  monillos." 

2  "  Muchos  veces  le  vi,  sin  los  dientes." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  15 

The  bits  of  the  Colombian  cattlemen  are  of  the  long- 
branched  Brazilian  pattern.  The  reins  are  single,  and 
the  hand  is  held  high,  as  it  is  held  by  all  the  horsemen 
of  the  world  who  ride  for  business  and  not  merely  as 
an  amusement  or  for  exercise. 

The  apparent  future  of  the  province  lies  in 
cattle-farming,  although  the  recently  discovered  oil 
deposits  may  turn  out  valuable.  There  are  at 
present,  it  is  estimated,  almost  two  million  head 
of  cattle  in  the  department1  of  Bolivar  and  the 
adjoining  state  of  Magdalena,  across  the  river  of  that 
name.  By  burning  jungle  off  and  forming  what  are 
called  "  potreros,"  room  could  be  made  for  nearly 
double  the  amount.  Whether  the  present  system  of 
burning  down  fine  timber  to  make  room  for  cattle 
is  sound  economy,  might  well  be  arguable.  However, 
it  has  existed  since  the  conquest,  and  was  the  plan 
the  Indians  used  long  before  they  ever  saw  white 
men  when  they  desired  to  plant  a  field  of  maize. 
The  proceeding  may  be  foolish  and  extravagant. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  that  it  is  the  system 
most  fitted  for  the  country.     Only  time  can  show. 

1  The  greatest  length  of  the  department  is  about  two  hundred 
and  eighty  miles  ;  its  greatest  width  about  one  hundred  and  forty. 


CHAPTER  II 

Of  all  the  towns  of  the  department  of  Bolivar, 
Cartagena  is  the  most  picturesque.  Not  only  is  it 
the  most  old-world  town  of  the  department,  but  of 
the  whole  republic,  and  perhaps  of  the  whole  continent 
of  South  America.  Mexico  and  Lima  have,  of 
course,  the  air  of  capitals.  Their  fine  positions  and 
the  traditions  that  hang  about  them  make  them 
interesting  and  beautiful.  Quito  and  Bogota,  La 
Paz  and  Sucre  are  strange  old-world  places  that 
have  got  into  a  backwater,  as  it  were,  of  time. 
Santiago  de  Chile  looks  towards  the  Andes,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  town  rises  a  hill  like  those  of 
Edinburgh  and  Prague.  Of  Buenos  Aires  nobody 
need  speak.  It  is  the  Paris  of  the  New  World. 
Monte  Video  is  a  city  set  upon  a  hill,  sun-warmed 
and  wind-swept,  ever  increasing,  but  still  Spanish  to 
the  core,  with  its  wide  streets  and  plazas  full  of 
flowers. 

Rio,  Bahia,  Santos,  Pernambuco,  and  the  Brazilian 
ports  in  general  are  marvels  of  the  tropics,  yet 
Cartagena  still  holds  its  own  as  a  thing  unique  in 
the  New  World.  No  wonder  that  its  citizens  call  it 
affectionately  Cartagenita,  or  El  Corralito  de  Piedras, 
in  allusion  to  its  ring  of  walls. 

16 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  17 

The  blue,  pellucid  sea,  broken  but  when  a  huge 
iridescent,  tropic  fish  springs  up  into  the  air  and  falls 
with  a  resounding  splash,  washes  the  walls,  against 
whose  base  there  plays  a  ring  of  milk-white  surf. 
Tall,  whispering  palm-trees  cluster  on  the  sands,  their 
roots  in  water  and  their  heads  in  fire.  Among  them 
shallow  wells  are  dug,  known  as  "  cacimbas,"  and 
fresh,  cool  water  fills  them  within  but  fifty  feet  away 
from  the  seashore. 

Thickets  of  icaco,  called  by  the  people  of  the 
place  "uvas  de  playa,"1  surround  the  walls,  and  from 
them  hang  long  clusters  of  a  fruit,  sufficiently  like 
grapes  to  bear  the  name.  All  day  the  old,  white 
town  basks  in  the  sun,  and  at  the  Ave  Maria,  when 
the  innumerable  church  bells  jangle  and  clang,  a 
breeze  springs  up  from  off  the  sea.  Nature  and  man 
revive,  and  as  it  rustles  in  the  palms  a  thin,  white 
cloud  of  mist  or  spray  seems  to  envelop  all  the  city 
and  its  green  gardens,  letting  them  just  appear  beneath 
it,  with  all  their  colours  toned  down  and  softened,  just 
as  you  catch  the  tone  of  caftan  and  burnoose  under 
the  fleecy  texture  of  a  diaphanous  haik  from  Fez 
or  Mequinez,  as  a  rich  Moor  rides  past  in  Africa. 

In  the  dark,  winding  streets,  where  houses,  over 
whose  iron-studded  doors  are  cut  the  crests  of 
conquerors,  men  stand  before  the  grated  windows, 
as  they  do  in  Seville  or  in  Cordoba,  whispering  the 
tale,  so  wearisome  to  any  but  the  ear  it  is  intended 
for ;  old  as  the  world,  but  which  will  yet  be  fresh  after 
a  thousand  years  have  passed  away.2 

1  Grapes  of  the  shore.     It  is  Chrysobalanus  icaco. 

2  A  Spanish  writer  says  about  these  bars  and  gratings  :  "  Las 
balconerias  y  rejas  son  de  madera,  materia  de  mas  resistencia  en  aquel 

2 


1 8  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

The  city  once  was  the  place  of  meeting  of  the 
great  Plate  fleet,  that  took  the  silver  gathered 
together  from  all  the  mines  of  the  New  World,  across 
the  seas  to  Spain.  Many  a  time  the  British  and 
French  corsairs  hung  off  and  on,  just  out  of  sight  of 
land,  to  attack  it  with  varying  success. 

Hawkins  and  Frobisher — known  to  the  Spaniards 
of  those  days  as  "  Aquino  "  and  "  Ofrisba  " — must 
have  often  seen  its  walls,  the  tops  of  the  white  houses, 
and  the  palm-trees,  as  they  lay  outside  La  Boca  Grande 
watching  for  chance  galleons. 

From  the  beginning  the  city  was  a  prey  to  corsairs. 
In  1544  "certain  French  rovers  attacked  it,  guided 
by  a  Corsican  who  had  lived  long  within  its  walls," 
as  says  one  of  its  chroniclers. 

In  1585  a  greater  far  than  he,  Sir  Francis  Drake, 
to  whom  the  said  old  chronicler  refers  as  a  "  pirata 
ingles,"  plundered  and  burnt  the  town,  and  then 
sailed  off  with  his  ships  laden  down  with  loot,  con- 
scious of  having  deserved  well  of  his  country  and  his 
God.  He  seems  to  have  been  one  of  our  earliest 
empire-builders ;  but  naturally  a  different  opinion  is 
held  about  his  exploits  in  England  from  the  opinion 
held  in  Spain.1 

temple,  que  el  hierro."  In  fact,  iron  soon  exfoliates  and  decays  when 
exposed  to  weather  in  Cartagena,  on  account  of  the  damp  climate 
and  the  salt  breezes  from  the  sea.  (Jorge  Juan,  in  his  "  Viage  la 
America  Meridjonal,"  Madrid,  1748). 

1  It  is  sometimes  forgotten  that,  when  Drake  and  the  rest  of  his 
bold  compeers,  so  to  speak,  "  worked  "  the  Spanish  Main,  Spain  and 
England  were  at  peace.  This  in  a  measure  justifies  the  celebrated 
speech  of  Gondomar  to  James  I.  (and  VI.)  when  he  burst  suddenly 
into  the  presence  with  a  cry  of  "  Pirates  !  Pirates  !"  and  refused  to 
add  another  word. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  19 

After  Drake's  crowning  mercy,  the  exploits  of  a 
French  filibuster,  one  Pointis,  in  1697,  seem  a  little 
tame.  This  bold  sea-rover  also  sacked  and  burned 
the  town,  but  in  a  trifling  Latin  way,  without 
apparently  a  thought  of  principle,  of  idealism,  or 
indeed  any  of  those  stalking-horses  dear  to  the  Saxon 
mind.  The  futile  Frenchman  seems  to  have  been 
merely  a  business  man,  and  all  the  plunder  that  he 
got  can  have  been  little  after  so  skilled  and  up-to-date 
practitioner  as  Drake  had  been  at  work,  only  ten  years 
before. 

Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  founded  the  city  in  1533. 
It  had  been  visited  by  the  celebrated  Alonso  de  Ojeda, 
the  companion  of  Columbus,  in  15 10.  He  en- 
deavoured to  found  a  town  there,  but  the  Indians  of 
the  place  defeated  him  and  forced  him  to  flee  for  his 
life  with  the  loss  of  all  the  soldiers  who  had  accom- 
panied him  as  far  as  a  place  called  Turbaco,  some 
twelve  miles  distant  from  the  coast. 

Amongst  his  men  perished  the  celebrated  Juan 
de  la  Cosa,  the  cartographer,  and  pilot  of  Columbus 
on  his  second  voyage.  Ojeda  himself  struggled  back 
to  the  coast  alone,  almost  in  a  dying  condition  and 
badly  wounded.  Left  in  a  miserable  position  with 
the  remnant  of  his  men  shut  up  in  an  Indian  village, 
where  now  stands  Cartagena  (but  then  known  as 
Calamar),  Ojeda  was  wellnigh  desperate.  For  two 
years  he  and  another  conqueror,  Captain  Diego  de 
Nicueza,  had  been  at  open  war  with  one  another. 
However,  Nicueza,  hearing  of  his  rival's  wretched 
state,  sailed  for  Cartagena  and  placed  his  fleet  and 
soldiers  at  the  disposition  of  Ojeda. 


20  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Thus  reinforced,  the  two  captains  drove  back  the 
Indians  and  determined  to  found  a  town.  Fresh 
troubles  with  the  Indians  forced  them  to  abandon  the 
place,  and  Ojeda,  wounded  by  a  poisoned  arrow, 
returned  to  die  in  the  Habana,  after  incredible  ad- 
ventures, his  ship  having  been  driven  ashore  on  the 
coast  of  Cuba,  and  himself  forced  to  continue  his 
journey  on  foot,  enduring  hardships  that  would  have 
overwhelmed  an  ordinary  man.  Arrived  in  the 
Habana,  though  his  wound  was  cured,  he  fell  into 
poverty  and  died  in  misery. 

So  perished  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  romantic 
figures  of  the  conquest.  He  it  was,  before  Columbus 
sailed,  who  ran  out  to  the  end  of  a  beam  fixed  at  a 
dizzy  height  in  the  cathedral  tower,  known  as  La 
Giralda,  at  Seville,  and  before  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
and  the  assembled  populace  threw  a  tennis  ball  over 
the  weathercock. 

From  1 510  until  1533  the  Bay  of  Cartagena 
seems  to  have  been  only  occasionally  visited. 

Diego  de  Nicueza,  Ojeda's  rival  and  friend, 
perished  even  more  miserably  than  himself.  A 
revolt  of  his  men  forced  him  to  put  to  sea  in  a  launch 
with  only  sixteen  companions.  They  either  drove 
ashore  and  were  slaughtered  by  the  Indians  or  their 
launch  was  swallowed  up  by  the  waves,  for  they  were 
never  seen  again. 

Herrera,  in   his  history  of  the   Indies,  says  that 

Diego  de   Nicueza  was  of  a  noble  family  and  had 

been  "Yeoman  of  the   Mouth  "l  in  the  household 

of  Don  Enrique  Enriquez,  uncle  of  Ferdinand    the 

1  «  Trinchante." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  21 

Catholic.  He  was,  so  says  Herrera,  a  great  courtier 
and  very  witty,  a  fine  horseman  and  an  accomplished 
performer  on  the  lute.  As  Colonel  Joaquin  Acosta, 
in  his  u  Compendio  Historico  del  Descubrimiento  y 
Colonizacion  de  la  Nueva  Granada,"  somewhat  un- 
kindly remarks,  "  Nicueza  had  no  opportunity  of 
exercising  any  of  those  accomplishments  on  the  coast 
of  Colombia." 

A  harbour  so  well  sheltered,  and  a  site  so  fitted  for 
a  town,  could  not  escape  for  long  the  observation  of 
the  adventurers  who  flocked  from  Spain  in  shoals 
during  the  early  portion  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
Few  ports  in  the  whole  world  are  better  sheltered  or 
less  exposed  to  wind.  Built  on  a  sandy,  wide-stretching 
island  which  it  almost  entirely  covers,  the  city's  north- 
west walls  stand  facing  the  open  sea.  The  south-east 
portion  of  the  wall  runs  along  the  harbour. 

Another  island,  known  anciently  as  Xiximani,  lies 
to  the  eastward,  and  is  connected  with  the  first  by  a 
long  causeway,  and  another  high -raised  road  connects 
both  islands  with  the  land.  Above  the  town  towers 
the  hill  called  La  Popa,  from  its  resemblance  to  the 
stern  of  an  old  Spanish  galleon.  Woods  clothe  its 
sides,  and  on  the  top  is  an  old  convent,  visible  miles 
out  at  sea. 

The  port  itself  is  twofold  and  runs  to  about  six 
miles  inland,  with  a  width  varying  from  two  to  four 
miles  at  the  broadest  point.  Two  narrow  entrances 
— called  respectively  La  Boca  Grande  and  La  Boca 
Chica — defended  by  old,  mouldering  Spanish  forts, 
give  access  to  the  bay.  The  humpbacked  island  called 
Tierra  Bomba  lies  just  inside  La  Boca  Chica,  and  as 


22  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

a    vessel    gradually  opens    up    the    town    a   splendid 
panorama  is  disclosed. 

Fear  of  the  "  English  corsairs  "  caused  the  inhabi- 
tants to  block  up  La  Boca  Grande,  so  that  all  vessels 
have  to  enter  by  the  smaller  mouth.  As  in  old  times 
the  Spaniards  did  all  things  solidly,  and  built  to  defy 
the  ravages  of  time,  they  made  a  sure  job  of  La  Boca 
Grande.  A  solid  wall,  almost  cyclopean  in  its  pro- 
portions, extends  across  the  entrance,  more  than  a 
mile  in  width.  It  rises  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
surface,  and  it  is  said  that  in  the  middle  a  narrow  gap 
was  left,  just  wide  enough  to  let  a  vessel  pass.  This 
gap  either  never  existed,  or  the  action  of  the  waves 
has  quite  destroyed  it,  for  it  has  never  been  found  in 
modern  times.  Small  craft  can  cross  the  sunken  wall, 
and  it  could  easily  be  blown  up  with  dynamite. 

On  a  less  gigantic  scale  than  Rio  de  Janeiro  (that 
marvel  of  the  world),  without   the   backing  of  the 
Organ  Mountains,  or  the  high  peaks  of  the  Tijuca 
such  as  its  greater  rival  prides  herself  upon,  without 
the    lofty   Sugar    Loaf  towering   above    the   narrow 
entrance   to    the    enormous    island-dotted    bay,    yet 
Cartagena  has  charms  and  traditions  of  its  own  that 
Rio  de  Janeiro  never  could  have  claimed.     It  may  be 
that  the  vegetation  of  the  more  northern  harbour  is  a 
shade  less  luxuriant ;  it  may  be  that  the  hill  on  which 
is  built  the  convent  of  La  Popa  is  insignificant  beside 
La  Gabia ;  still,  Cartagena  does  not  found  her  charm 
upon  mere  natural  advantages,  though  those  are  great ; 
but  upon  history  and  tradition  and  on  the  incompar- 
able picturesqueness  of  the  town  and  of  its  monu- 
mental walls.     Built  of  the  finest  masonry,  and  thirty 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  23 

feet  at  least  in  height,  they  ring  the  city  round,  giving 
it  an  air  of  Avila,  San  Gemigniano,  or  of  Aigues 
Mortes,  gone  astray  into  the  tropics.  In  places  the 
walls  go  sheer  into  the  sea.  In  others  they  take 
advantage  of  the  natural  position  of  the  ground  and 
leave  only  a  narrow  road  between  them  and  a  man- 
grove swamp. 

At  La  Tenaza *  they  are  machicolated,  and  a  deep 
tunnel  connects  them  with  a  flanking  tower.  At  the 
Cabrero,  a  small  spit  of  land,  on  which  stands  the 
white,  mosque-like  church,  raised  to  the  memory  of 
President  Nunez,  and  finishing  in  a  long,  sandy  street, 
over  which  wave  ever-murmuring  coco-palms,  the 
walls  tower  high  above  the  houses,  as  the  ground 
rises  towards  that  point.  From  them  you  look  down 
upon  the  tops  of  villas  and  on  a  sea  of  brightly 
flowering  shrubs  and  trees.  Long  lines  of  Ponciana 
Regias,  with  their  long  clusters  of  bright,  scarlet 
flowers,  two  feet  in  length,  shade  the  avenue  on 
which  the  villas  stand.  A  crimson  bougainvillea, 
known  locally  as  "  la  flor  del  Habana,"  and  a  bright 
blood-red  creeper  called  in  Colombia  "la  bellisima" 
(a  most  appropriate  name),  bignonias,  crotons,  and 
all  kinds  of  flowering  plants,  unknown  outside  the 
tropics,  bury  the  suburb  of  El  Cabrero  in  a  sea  of 
colour  and  make  the  white  walls  of  the  little  monu- 
mental church  appear  still  whiter  than  they  are. 

The  top  of  the  encircling  medieval  ramparts  is 
so  broad,  that  four  carriages  could  pass  quite  easily, 
and  up  the  inclined  planes  of  masonry  a  motor-car 

1  La  Tenaza  is  a  fortified  postern  gate.     Admiral  Vernon's  forces 
were  defeated  there  in  the  attack  on  Cartagena  in  1741. 


24  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

can — and  often  does  at  evening  time,  when  the  sea 
breeze  blows  freshly  and  the  whole  city  withers  as 
in  a  furnace  —  perform  the  circuit  of  the  walls. 
Such  walls,  such  bastions,  and  such  flanking  towers, 
such  massive  gates  and  drawbridges,  cost,  as  they  say 
in  South  America,  a  Potosi.  So  often  was  the 
exchequer,  far  away  in  Spain,  called  on  for  grants 
to  finish  them,  that  tradition  says  one  evening  in  the 
Escorial,  Philip  the  Second,  the  prudent  king,  whose 
aphorism  was,  M  Time  and  myself  against  three 
others,"  dressed  we  may  suppose  in  the  black,  velvet 
suit,  the  livery  of  the  House  of  Austria,  was  observed 
by  his  courtiers  to  gaze  westward  earnestly. 

He  did  not  speak,  as  was  his  wont — is  it  not 
historical  that  when  he  received  the  news  of  the 
defeat  of  "  La  Invincible,"  as  it  is  called  in  Spain,  he 
merely  looked  up  from  his  desk  and  said,  "  There  is 
still  oak  enough  in  Spain  to  build  another  "  ? 

So  long  he  gazed  that  the  Duke  of  Alba  asked 
him,  "  What  is  it  that  your  majesty  is  looking  for  ?" 
The  answer  was,  "  I  am  looking  for  the  walls  of 
Cartagena.  They  cost  so  much,  they  must  be  visible 
from  here." 


CHAPTER  III 

Hardly  was  Cartagena  settled  when  the  stream  of 
adventure  and  of  discovery  set  inward  from  the  coast. 
It  turned  quite  naturally  first  to  the  province  of  Sinu, 
as  the  department  of  Bolivar  was  then  called.  Long 
before  this — or  what  was  long  in  such  an  epoch- 
making  period  as  was  the  conquest  of  America — the 
Sinu  had  been  visited  and  described. 

In  1 5 19  appeared  at  Seville  the  rare  and  curious 
book,  "  La  Suma  de  Geografia  del  Bachiller  Martin 
Fernandez  de  Enciso,  Alguacil  Mayor  de  Castilla  de 
Oro."  Amongst  the  many  curious  diaries,  or  logs,  of 
soldiers  and  discoverers,  few  are  more  curious  or  more 
exact  in  every  detail  than  that  of  the  aforesaid 
Alguacil  Mayor. 

The  general  outline  of  the  coast  he  gives  is  as 
correct  as  that  of  any  modern  map.  The  notes  on 
the  inhabitants,  the  fauna,  flora,  and  the  configuration 
of  the  soil,  are  so  informing  and  minute  that  I  know 
of  no  modern  work  on  the  Sinu  that  can  compare 
with  it. 

Many  of  the  conquerors  of  the  New  World 
wielded  the  pen  almost  as  well  as  they  did  lance  or 
sword.  Cortes,  in  his  five  letters  giving  an  account 
of  all  that  he  had  done  in  Mexico,  to  the  Emperor 

25 


26  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Charles  V.,  showed  himself  not  only  master  of  a 
vigorous  style,  but  of  a  cultivated  mind.  His  powers 
of  observation  and  description  were  rare  in  any  man  ; 
but  in  his  case  the  more  extraordinary  as  he  was  first 
and  foremost,  at  the  time,  a  man  of  war.  Of  all  the 
greater  conquerors  of  the  New  World  he  was  the 
man  who  had  received  most  education.  When  he 
first  appeared  in  public  life  in  the  Habana  he  was  a 
lawyer,  and  Bernal  Diaz  says :  "  I  heard  tell  he  was  a 
bachelor  of  laws,1  and,  when  he  spoke  to  men  of 
letters  and  Latinists,  he  answered  in  that  tongue."  He 
may  have  graduated  either  at  Salamanca  or  at  Alcala ; 
but  even  if  he  did,  that  did  not  make  him  a  good 
writer  or  give  him  his  penetrating  view  into  the 
hearts  of  men.  "  What  Nature  does  not  give, 
Salamanca  cannot  lend/'2  the  proverb  goes,  and  in  his 
case  all  that  the  university  could  do  was  to  give  polish 
to  a  brilliant  that  always  must  have  shone. 

His  great  lieutenant,  Pedro  de  Alvarado  —  he 
whom  the  Mexicans  referred  to  as  "  El  Sol "  in  the 
two  reports  sent  from  his  government  of  New  Galicia 
— showed  himself  little  inferior  to  his  chief. 

These  reports  by  men  such  as  Cortes,  to  Spain,  or 
by  inferior  officers  to  their  chiefs,  as  in  the  case  of 
Alvarado,  Diego  Godoy,3  and  others,  form  a  great 
feature  in  the  literature  of  the  conquest  of  the  New 
World,  hardly  to  be  equalled  in  their  kind.  Many 
of  the  conquerors  wrote  actual  histories.  Amongst 
these,    two   will    ever    shine    above   the    rest.     The 

1  "  Bachiller  en  leyes." 

2  "  Quod  Natura  non  dat,  Salamanca  hon  praestat." 

3  Another  lieutenant  of  Cortes. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  27 

splendid  history  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru,  by  Pedro 
Cieza  de  Leon,  who  from  the  age  of  fifteen  up  to 
twenty-seven  wrote  by  the  light  of  the  camp-fire 
each  evening  all  that  happened  in  the  day,  contains 
an  account  of  the  Incas  and  their  government  which 
is  unrivalled  even  by  that  composed  by  Garcilasso  de 
la  Vega  (Inca),  whose  mother  was  a  princess  of  their 
line. 

Nothing  in  all  the  literature  of  all  those  stirring 
times  can  equal  for  simplicity  and  truth,  for  observa- 
tion, charity,  and  sense,  the  chronicle  that  the  stout 
soldier,  Bernal  Diaz  del  Castillo,  wrote  of  Mexico 
and  of  its  siege  and  fall.  Prescott  gets  all  his  colour 
from  it.  Sometimes  he  acknowledges  the  debt  in 
footnotes,  but  now  and  then  appears  to  incorporate 
long  passages  without  acknowledgment. 

Ercillas'  epic  poem  of  the  wars  in  Chile  with 
the  Araucanos,  was  written  upon  scraps  of  paper, 
pieces  of  hide,  on  bones  and  bark,  as  he  himself 
informs  us,  and  there  are  several  histories  of  the  kind, 
written  with  the  sword  and  arquebuse  laid  ready  to 
the  hand.  The  Bachiller  Enciso  was,  as  his  title 
shows,  an  educated  man,  holding  high  office  in  the 
newly  conquered  territory.  For  all  his  accuracy  and 
observation  of  the  countries,  his  well-written  logs, 
and  careful  estimates  of  distances  from  one  port  to 
another,  so  careful  that  they  would  serve  to  take  a 
vessel  from  Santa  Marta  right  to  Panama  almost 
without  a  chart,  he  yet  shows  a  simplicity  of  mind 
not  to  be  found  in  more  sophisticated  days. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  turn  of  phrase  that  seems  to  us 
more  simple  than  it  was.     Perhaps  the  newness  of 


28  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  scenes  he  wrote  of  caused  him  to  write,  as 
Spaniards  say,  with  his  soul  in  his  hand,1  but  the 
effect  is  something  differing  in  essence  from  that 
produced  by  any  traveller  to-day. 

The  sense  of  mystery  is  gone  out  of  the  world. 
Better  communications  have  destroyed  it.  Even  the 
conquest  of  the  air,  with  all  its  wonder  and  its 
difficulty,  cannot  and  never  will  produce  a  man  apart, 
a  sailor  of  the  air,  differing  in  speech,  in  life,  and 
point  of  view,  from  those  who  crawl  upon  the  earth, 
as  was  the  sailor  of  the  seas.  We  know  the  Bachiller 
Enciso  was  in  Darien  in  1 5 1 5,  under  the  orders  of 
the  celebrated  Pedrarias  Davila.  Thus  the  work 
written  in  1 5 1 8  (the  date  of  what  is  called  in  Spanish 
the  "  privilege  "2 — that  is,  the  licence,  showing  it  had 
been  examined  and  approved  both  by  the  civil  and  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities)  evidently  was  done  when 
the  impressions  of  the  voyages  were  still  fresh  in  his 
mind. 

As  he  made,  in  or  about  the  year  1515,  two 
voyages  up  and  down  the  coast  from  Panama  to  the 
Cabo  de  la  Vela,  perhaps  he  had  his  log  books  to 
assist  him  in  his  work.  This  most  rare  book  for  long 
was  only  known  to  exist  in  a  single  copy  in  the 
National  Library  in  Paris,  though  perhaps  it  may 
have  been  reprinted  recently. 

Of  all  the  coast,  down  to  the  Cabo  de  la  Vela,  he 
has  preserved  most  curious  details.  Thus  he  tells  us 
that  near  Santa  Marta  all  the  gravel  on  the  beach 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  gilded,  adding,  "  though  this  is 
not  the  case."  "  The  Indians,"  he  says,  "  have  much 
1  "El  alma  en  la  palma."  2  " Privilegio." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  29 

gold  and  copper,  which  they  know  how  to  colour  just 
like  gold.  This  they  do  with  the  juices  of  a  certain 
herb  that  grows  upon  that  coast,  passing  the  copper 
through  a  fire." 

Stags  and  wild  boars1  were  plentiful,  just  as  they 
are  to-day.  He  gives  the  first  account  of  the 
celebrated  manchineel-tree,  so  often  spoken  of  by  the 
older  navigators.  Speaking  of  the  poisoned  arrows 
which  the  natives  use,  he  tells  how  they  procure  the 
poison  chiefly  from  the  apple  of  a  tree  that  grows 
close  to  the  water's  edge.  "  If  a  man,"  he  says,  "  eats 
of  the  apple  of  that  tree  his  body  soon  is  filled  with 
maggots,  and  if  by  chance  he  sleeps  beneath  its  shade 
his  head  begins  to  ache,  his  face  swells  hideously,  and 
if  he  does  not  rise  and  come  away  he  becomes  blind 
or  dies."  What  modern  science  says  about  the 
manchineel  I  am  uncertain  ;  but  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  travel  in  the  days  of  the  Bachiller  Enciso 
had  attractions  that  have  disappeared  to-day. 

The  Indians  between  Santa  Marta  and  a  port  called 
Zamba  "  were  all  good  people,  and  do  harm  to 
nobody,  unless  the  others  first  begin."2  Not  an 
unnatural  state  of  mind  for  savages,  and  one  that 
might  be  copied  with  profit  by  the  most  civilized 
of  men. 

A  little  farther  on,  and,  I  regret  to  say  near 
Cartagena,  where  I  protest  I  never  should  have 
thought  at  any  time  the  ladies  so  behaved,  the 
women  all  went  naked,  and  fought  as  fiercely  as  the 
men,  shooting  their  arrows  desperately  and  far. 

1  Probably  peccaries. 

2  "Es  buena  gente,  que  no  hace  mal  ...  si  a  ellos  no  gelo 
hacen  primero." 


3o  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

"  I  had,"  he  says,  "  a  girl  whom  I  took  prisoner,  of 
twenty  years  of  age.  She  told  me  that  in  the  battle, 
when  she  was  taken  by  our  men,  she  had  killed  eight 
Christians.,,1  To  my  regret,  the  Bachiller  says 
nothing  more  about  this  amazon.  By  all  the  laws, 
both  of  expediency  and  war,  she  should  have  married 
some  stout  soldier  of  the  Bernal  Diaz  type  of  man, 
and  brought  up  warlike  sons.  Perhaps  the  Bachiller 
married  her  himself;  but  on  this  matter  he  preserves 
an  absolute  discretion,  keeping  most  strictly  to  such 
things  as  appertain  to  the  mission  of  a  "  Christian 
governor." 

His  first  account  of  the  Sinu — or,  as  he  always 
writes  it,  Cenu — occurs  when  he  mentions  that,  from 
Cartagena  to  the  Port  of  the  Cenu,  there  are  some 
twenty  or  more  leagues.  This  is  the  actual  distance 
to  the  port  now  called  Cispata,  which  lies,  as  the 
Bachiller  Enciso  says,  in  a  large  bay,  formed  by  the 
river's  mouth.  In  the  Cenu,  he  says,  much  salt  is 
made,  and  this  continues  to  be  made  down  to  the 
present  day.  In  ancient  times,  amongst  the  Indians 
of  South  America,  salt  was  a  scarce  commodity,  and 
was  so  highly  valued  that  in  some  places  it  was  used 
as  currency. 

The  infidels2  in  those  parts  used  to  make 
mummies  of  the  bodies  of  their  chiefs,  painting  their 
faces,  putting  crowns  of  feathers  on  their  heads,  and 
placing  bows  and  arrows  in  their  hands.     This  done, 

1  "  Ocho  hombres  cristianos." 

2  "Los  infieles."  This  word  has  always  seemed  to  me  to  be 
used  with  singularly  little  application  to  men  such  as  the  Indians  of 
America,  who  had  had  no  chance  of  being  faithful  to  anything,  but 
their  own  gods. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  31 

they  set  the  bodies  up  in  some  convenient  place,  and 
offered  up  to  them  bits  of  old  rag,  fruits,  broken 
arrows,  or  anything  they  had.  This  was  not  done, 
apparently,  in  worship,  but  as  an  act  of  homage,  or  for 
memory,  just  as  we  put  a  tombstone  over  graves. 

Padre  Simon,1  the  best  authority  on  things 
Colombian  of  the  early  days,  informs  us  that  at 
Zipaquiru  they  found  offered  up  to  an  idol  a  rosary, 
a  priest's  biretta,  and  a  Guide  to  the  Confessional 
("  Un  Libro  de  Casos  de  Conciencia  ").  Whether  the 
Indian  devotee  had  some  knotty  point  upon  his 
conscience,  or  whether  the  book  to  him  was  simply 
a  "  great  medicine,"  is,  and  must  always  be,  buried  in 
mystery.  Possibly  the  first  mention  of  mandioca,2  or 
cazabe,  bread  is  to  be  found  in  the  pages  of  the 
Bachiller. 

"  There  are  roots,"  he  says,  "  of  which  they  make 
their  bread,  as  they  do  in  Cuba,  Jamaica,  and  in 
Hispaniola  ;  but  they  are  of  another  quality,  for  those 
of  the  islands  are  all  poisonous,  and  if  a  man  eats  of 
them  he  dies  infallibly,  as  if  he  had  taken  arsenic,  and 
to  make  bread  of  them  they  must  be  boiled  and 
scraped,  before  that  they  are  ground. 

"  In  the  Cenu,  upon  the  contrary,  the  people  eat 
the  roots  raw  or  roasted,  and  they  are  wholesome  and 
sweet-tasted  "  ("  de  gentil  sabor  ").  He  was  evidently 
unaware  that  there  are  several  kinds  of  manioc,  and 
that  the  wild  variety  is  poisonous  till  it  has  been 
treated,  as  he  has  explained.  The  Indians  also  had 
another   kind   of  bread    made    out  of  Indian   corn. 

1  "  Conquista  de  Tierra  Firme"  (edition  of  Bogota,  1892). 

2  yatropha  manioc. 


32  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

This  bread  is  quite  unlike  all  other  kinds  of  bread 
made  out  of  maize  or  Indian  corn."  It  was  the  staple 
food  of  the  Indians  of  the  coast  of  Colombia  and 
Panama,  at  the  conquest,  and  has  remained  in  use 
(upon  the  coast)  amongst  all  classes  down  to  the 
present  day.  The  celebrated  navigator,  Jorge  Juan,1 
speaking  of  this  bread,  says:  "  It  has  no  likeness 
to  wheaten  bread  either  in  colour  or  taste,  but  is 
insipid  in  extreme."  It  is  rolled  up  in  a  maize  or 
a  banana  leaf,  in  pieces  about  the  size  of  a  small 
sausage.  The  local  name  is  "  bollo,"  and  Oviedo  in  his 
"  Historia  Natural  de  las  Indias  "  gives  the  following 
description  of  it  :  "  The  Indian  women  grind  the 
maize2  between  two  stones  .  .  .  and  as  they  grind 
it  mix  a  little  water  with  it,  which  by  degrees 
converts  the  flour  into  a  paste.  Then  taking  a  bit  of 
the  leaf  of  a  plant  of  that  country,  or  of  the  maize 
itself,  they  roll  it  up  and  make  a  cake  of  it."  This 
is  the  way  the  people  of  the  Colombian  coast  make  it 
to-day,  and  I  can  certify  that  it  has,  as  was  said  by 
Jorge  Juan,  neither  the  colour  nor  the  taste  of  bread ; 
also  that  it  is  insipid  to  the  last  degree  when  cold, 
but  tolerable  to  hungry  men  when  warm — that  is  to 
say,  if  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  serve  as  sub- 
stitute. How  little  necessity  the  Indians  had  to  offer 
up  books  of  u  Casos  de  Conciencia "  to  their  idols 
is  shown  by  the  following  passage,  which  redounds 
as  much  to  the  credit  of  their  reasoning  powers  as  to 

1  Jorge  Juan  y  Ulloa  :  "  Relacion  Historica  del  Viage  &  la 
America  Meridional"  (Madrid,  1749). 

2  He  spells  it  "  mahiz."  This  was  the  original  spelling,  for  it  is 
a  Carib  word,  first  heard  by  the  Spaniards  in  Santo  Domingo,  and 
by  them  carried  over  the  whole  world. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  33 

the    open-minded    attitude    of    the    Bachiller,    who 
quotes  all  that  they  say,  without  a  comment  on  it. 

"  I  notified,  from  the  King  of  Castile,  two  caciques 
of  the  Cenu,  that  we  were  followers  of  the  said  King, 
and  that  we  had  come  to  let  them  know  that  there 
was  only  but  one  God,  who  was  in  three  parts,  and 
yet  one.1  That  he  was  Ruler  of  the  heavens  and  the 
earth.  That  God  had  come  down  upon  earth  and  left 
St.  Peter  to  rule  for  him.  That  St.  Peter  had  left  as 
his  successor  the  Holy  Father,  and  that  the  Holy 
Father  was  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  acting  on  behalf 
of  God.  That  the  said  Holv  Father  as  Lord  of  the 
universe  had  made  a  present  of  all  the  Indies,  including 
the  Cenu,  to  the  King  of  Castile.  I  further  notified 
them  that  in  virtue  of  this  gift  they  were  all  subjects 
of  the  aforesaid  King.  That  they  must  pay  him  full 
obedience,  and  send  him  something2  every  year.  If 
they  did  this  the  King  would  help  them  against  their 
enemies,  and  send  them  friars  and  priests  to  in- 
doctrinate them  in  the  Christian  faith. 

"  This  said,  I  asked  them  for  their  answer,  which 
they  gave,  saying,  .  .  .  that  as  to  there  being  but 
one  God,  Ruler  of  heaven  and  earth,  it  seemed  quite 
reasonable  ;  but  that  the  Pope  was  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth  on  God's  behalf,  and  acting  with  that 
power  had  given  their  land  to  the  King  of  Castile, 
they  looked  upon  it  as  the  action  of  a  madman. 

"  The  Pope,  they  said,  must  have  been  drunk  when 
he  did  such  a  foolish  thing  as  to  give  away  some- 
thing that  never  had  belonged  to  him,  and  the  King, 

1  "  Que  era  trino  y  uno." 

2  "  Alguna  cosa  cada  ano." 


34  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

who  received  it,  just  as  mad  as  the  Pope.  .  .  .  They 
said  that  they  were  lords  of  their  own  territory,  and 
wanted  nothing  either  from  Pope  or  King.  I  again 
notified  plainly  to  them  that  in  that  case  I  would 
make  war  upon  them  and  sell  them  all  for  slaves. 
Their  answer  was  that  they  would  kill  me  and  stick 
my  head  upon  a  pole.  This  they  tried  hard  to  do, 
but  we  were  too  strong  for  them  and  took  their 
villages,  though  they  killed  two  of  our  men  with 
poisoned  arrows,  although  their  wounds  were  small." 
In  fact,  civilization,  as  we  know,  must  enter  in 
with  blood.  The  curious  thing  about  it  all  is  the 
attitude  of  mind  of  the  Bachiller  Enciso,  for  he  was 
no  rough  soldier,  as  was  Pizarro  or  Valdivia,  but  an 
educated  man.  The  fact  that  he  makes  no  comment 
on  the  affair,  or  on  the  answer  that  the  Indians  gave  to 
what  he  must  have  known  was  arrant  nonsense  and 
the  rankest  of  injustice,  is  most  significant.  Most  of 
the  other  conquerors  who  often  found  themselves  in 
similar  predicaments — notably  Cortes  in  Mexico  and 
Pizarro  in  Peru — are  loud  in  condemnation  of  the 
Indians'  folly  and  of  their  insolence  in  not  accepting 
out  of  hand  a  king  and  a  religion  quite  unknown  to 
them  and  offered  with  the  alternative  of  death.  The 
Bachiller's  position  was  quite  different  from  theirs, 
for,  before  passing  from  the  narration  of  his  mis- 
sionary efforts,  he  tells  us  :  "I  took  a  chieftain  in 
another  part  of  the  Cenu  .  .  .  and  found  him  to 
be  a  very  truthful  man,1  who  kept  his  word  on  all 
occasions,  one  who  knew  good  from  evil  as  well  as 
any  man."2     He  does  not  add  "as  well  as  any  Chris- 

1  "  Hombre  de  mucha  verdad." 

2  "  Y  que  le  parecia  mal,  lo  malo,  y  bien,  lo  bueno." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  35 

tian,"  though  he  might  have  done  so.  Perhaps  deep 
in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  was  ashamed  to  do  so, 
knowing,  as  he  himself  must  well  have  done,  that 
what  is  right  is  right,  and  what  is  evil  evil,  as  did 
the  Indian  chief. 

It  is  most  curious  to  read  the  account  Enciso 
gives  of  all  the  animals  he  saw  whilst  travelling  in 
the  district  of  the  Sinu.  His  descriptions  certainly 
are  quaint,  but  still  most  accurate,  and  not  a  trace  of 
the  marvellous  enters  into  them  any  more  than  it 
would  enter  into  the  head  of  one  of  our  most  modern 
hunters  after  "specimens,"  who  go  out  with  their 
comfortable  tents,  camps,  beds,  and  medicines,  and 
their  quick-firing  slaughter  rifles.  Theology  and 
natural  history  he  seemed  to  keep  apart  in  reason- 
tight  compartments,  just  as  some  scientific  men  of 
our  own  times  keep  science  upon  one  side  of  their 
heads  and  superstition  on  the  other,  without  allowing 
the  least  ray  of  light  to  fall  on  the  dark  side. 

In  the  high  mountains  near  the  Gulf  of  Uraba, 
he  says,  "  there  is  great  store  of  lions  and  of  tigers,1 
and  long-tailed  cats  like  monkeys,  only  their  tails  are 
longer. 

"  Wild  boars  are  plentiful,  and  animals  almost  as 
large  as  cows,  of  a  brown  colour,  their  heads  like 
mules,  with  longish  ears,  and  feet  exactly  like  the 
cow's." 

This  animal  was,  of  course,  the  tapir,  and,  though 

the  description  may  sound  strange  to  modern  ears,  it 

is  most  accurate. 

1  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  both  the  English  and  Spaniards 
referred  to  the  puma  as  a  lion,  and  the  jaguar  as  a  tiger. 


36  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

"  Ounces,  they  say,  are  found,  but  I  have  never 
seen  them ;  but  what  I  did  see  as  I  crossed  a  river  in 
those  parts  were  lizards  of  huge  size.  These  lizards 
lie  about  the  banks,  and  if  an  animal  or  an 
incautious  Christian  passes  by,  they  rush  and  seize 
him,  carrying  him  off  below  the  surface  of  the  stream 
to  make  a  meal  of  him." 

Even  to  -  day  the  "  incautious  Christian "  is 
carried  off  occasionally  by  those  same  lizards  that 
Enciso  writes  about.  In  this  respect,  I  am  in  the 
same  position  as  was  the  Bachiller  in  regard  to  the 
ounces,  for,  though  I  have  seen  Christians  sufficiently 
incautious  of  their  lives  and  reputations,  I  never  saw 
one  eaten  by  an  alligator,  though  I  have  heard  of  it 
as  taking  place. 

With  not  unnatural  pride  the  Bachiller  relates 
that  it  was  he  who  caught  the  first  of  these  great 
lizards,  and  tells,  quite  in  the  manner  of  our  own 
great  naturalist  Waterton,  the  struggle  that  he  and 
his  followers  had  to  despatch  the  alligator.  The 
point  at  which  I  join  issue  with  him  is  when  he  says 
that  the  flesh  of  these  lizards,  although  it  smells  of 
musk,  is  of  a  pleasant  flavour,  white  and  nice.1 

Either  the  first  conquerors  were  not  particular,  or 
food  was  very  scarce. 

His  best  description,  considered  as  a  literary  effort, 
and  one  that  does  great  credit  to  his  powers  of 
observation,  is  of  the  armadillo,  about  which  he  says: 
"  There  are  in  this  land  little  animals  about  as  big  as 
is  a  sucking-pig.  They  have  got  feet  and  hands  just 
like  a  horse,  and  their  head  is  just  like  that  of  a  little 

1  "  Blanca  y  gentil." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  37 

horse  with  its  corresponding  ears.  It  is  all  covered 
with  a  shell  from  its  head  to  its  tail.  Thus  it  looks 
like  a  horse  when  it  has  armour  on.  These 
animals  are  very  handsome  to  look  upon.  They  also 
graze  just  like  a  horse."1 

The  curious  thing  about  this,  possibly  the  first 
description  of  the  armadillo,  is  that  it  should  also  have 
struck  Oviedo,  the  writer  on  natural  history  of  the 
Indies,  as  being  like  a  horse.  Oviedo,  who  was  in 
Panama  about  the  same  time  as  was  the  Bachiller 
Enciso,  although  his  great  work  "  La  Historia 
Natural  de  las  Indias,"  did  not  appear  till  some  years 
afterwards,  either  had  seen  the  work  of  his  compatriot 
or  talked  with  him  about  the  animal. 

He  says  these  animals  are  well  worth  looking  at 
by  Christians  ;s  Christians,  indeed,  have  many  things 
beneath  their  noses  well  worth  looking  at.  They 
rarely  see  them,  being,  perhaps,  absorbed  in  higher 
matters.  Luckily  for  us,  Oviedo  and  the  Bachiller 
Enciso  had  their  attention  turned  upon  sublunary 
affairs.  Simple  as  are  the  observations  of  Enciso, 
they  yet  have  an  impress  of  truth  and  of  sincerity  that 
makes  them  priceless  to  the  student  of  a  district  such 
as  the  Sinu,  so  little  written  of  in  modern  times. 

1  "  En  esta  tierra  ay  unos  animales  pequenos  como  un  lechon  de 
un  mes.  Estos  tienen  los  pies  y  las  manos  como  un  caballo  encubertado, 
con  sus  orejuelas,  y  esta  todo  cubierto  de  una  concha  desde  las  orejas 
hasta  la  cola,  que  parece  un  caballo  encubertado ;  son  fermosos  de 
mirar,  pacen  como  un  caballo."  It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  "  mano  "  in 
Spanish  is  used  for  the  forefoot  of  a  horse.  In  point  of  fact,  the 
armadillo  has  claws  and  not  "  manos"  like  a  horse.  As  to  their  being 
"  fermosos  de  mirar "...  well,  well.  ...  "  Hay  gustos  que 
merecen  palos." 

2  "  Son  animales  mucho  de  ver  para  los  Cristianos." 


CHAPTER  IV 

After  the  Bachiller  Enciso  had  published  his  notes 
upon  the  flora,  fauna,  and  the  Indians  of  the  Sinu, 
preserving  for  us,  as  in  a  slightly  distorted  but  still 
achromatic  glass,  glimpses  of  all  he  saw,  no  mention 
of  the  province  is  to  be  found  till  the  year  1533. 
In  that  year  Pedro  de  Heredia  was  named  governor 
of  all  the  territory  from  the  mouth  of  the  River 
Magdalena  up  to  Darien.  Having  sailed  from  Cadiz 
towards  the  end  of  1532,  he  disembarked  in  Cartagena 
upon  January  14th  of  the  year  1533. 

Heredia  had  already  had  considerable  experience 
of  the  New  World  ;  as  lieutenant  to  Vadillo,  governor 
of  Santa  Marta,  he  had  taken  part  in  all  his  expeditions, 
and  had  accompanied  his  lieutenant  Palamino  upon 
the  last  of  all.  On  this  occasion  Palamino's  horse  at 
the  crossing  of  a  river  suddenly  got  into  deep  water 
and  with  his  rider  disappeared.  In  a  short  time  the 
horse  came  up  and  swam  to  shore,  but  Palamino  was 
never  seen  again,  either  alive  or  dead. 

Thus  Heredia  was  no  neophyte  in  America,  but 
a  man  who  understood  completely,  all  that  was 
required  for  an  expedition  to  the  New  World.  It  has 
been  well  observed  by  a  writer  on  the  Conquest  of 

38 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  39 

New  Granada1  (Colombia)  that  all  the  expeditions 
that  were  fitted  out  from  Haiti  or  from  Santo 
Domingo — that  is,  the  island  we  call  Hispaniola,  and 
the  Spaniards  knew  as  la  Isla  Espanola  (the  Spanish 
Island) — were  more  successful  than  those  that  came 
from  Spain. 

Certain  it  is  that  the  expedition  of  Cortes  was  fitted 
out  in  the  Habana;  that  of  Pizarro  in  Panama.  Legaspi 
also,  the  conqueror  of  the  Philippines,  started  from 
Mexico.  Nearly  all  the  expeditions  that  came  from 
Spain  were  commanded  either  by  courtiers  or  at  least 
by  noblemen.  These,  even,  though  some  of  whom 
certainly  had  had  experience  in  the  Italian  wars,  were 
quite  at  sea  in  the  Americas.  Generally  they  arrived 
in  shining  armour,  or  in  embroidered  clothes,  bringing 
with  them  a  long  train  of  pages,  followers,  secretaries, 
and  others  of  the  kind.  The  expeditions  that  started 
either  from  Cuba  or  Hispaniola  were  composed  of  a 
very  different  class.  In  them  came  men  accustomed 
to  the  climate,  trained  to  bear  arms  within  the  tropics, 
good  horsemen,  for  horses  soon  become  plentiful  and 
wild  in  the  West  Indies,  and  your  wild  horse  makes 
your  good  rider,  better  than  he  can  possibly  be  made 
in  military  riding  schools. 

These  men,  cruel  and  bigoted  no  doubt,  were 
worth  a  dozen  of  those  fresh  from  Spain,  and  called 
"  bisonos,"2  or  "  chapetones,"  by  the  Spaniards.  In 
his  youth  Heredia  had  been,  as  was  Cortes,  a  famous 
duellist.     Having  had  his  nose  almost  cut  off  in  a 

1  "CompendioHistoricodelDescubrimiento  de  la  Nueva  Granada  " 
(Colonel  Joaquin  Acosta.     Paris,  1848). 

2  Bisono  =  a  raw  soldier.     Chapeton  corresponds  to  the  American 
"  tenderfoot,"  or  the  Australian  "  new  chum." 


40  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

street  fight  in  Madrid,  after  it  was  repaired  ("  re- 
parado  ")  by  a  good  surgeon,  he  never  rested  till  he 
had  slain  three  of  his  assailants.  This  was  the  cause 
that  took  him  with  his  good  sword  (and  his  repaired 
nose)  to  the  New  World. 

Having  landed  at  Santo  Domingo,  he  had  the 
luck,  in  a  short  time,  to  inherit  a  large  estate  there. 
This  got  him  the  chance  to  go  as  lieutenant  to  Vadillo, 
governor  of  Santa  Marta,  to  the  new  colony  upon 
the  coast.  There  he  distinguished  himself  greatly, 
and  in  a  few  years  went  home  to  Spain,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  conquerors  of  those  days,  to  get  himself 
made  governor  of  a  portion  of  the  newly  conquered 
territory.  He  chose  a  small,  but  well-selected  expedi- 
tion, consisting  of  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  soldiers, 
all  seasoned  men,  many  of  whom  had  already  been  in 
the  Indies.  With  him  came,  as  lieutenant,  Francisco 
Cesar,  who  gave  his  name  to  the  great  river,  still 
partially  unexplored,  upon  whose  banks  he  lost  his 
life.  Pedro  de  Alcazar  and  Captain  Muio  de  Castro 
also  were  officers  of  his,  and  it  is  said  that  descendants 
of  both  of  them  are  to  be  found,  either  in  Cartagena 
or  in  the  province,  down  to  the  present  day.  Heredia 
did  not  bring  rich  furniture,  brocades,  or  pictures,  as 
other  of  the  captains  who  had  sailed  from  Spain  had 
done.  Instead  of  that,  he  put  aboard  his  ships  great 
store  of  ammunition,  cannons  and  muskets,  swords, 
lances,  and  defensive  armour,  fitted  for  warfare  in  hot 
countries. 

He  took  much  wine  and  flour  and,  with  a  fore- 
thought that  shows  him  to  have  been  a  born  explorer, 
he  had  constructed  a  large  barge,  of  little  draught,  to 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  41 

sail  up  rivers  and  to  penetrate  their  creeks.  All  the 
expense  of  the  expedition  he  bore  himself,  settling  it 
with  the  gold  he  had  won  by  force  of  arms  in  Santa 
Marta  and  upon  the  coast.  He  touched  at  Puerto  Rico 
and  took  on  board  some  of  the  companions  of 
Sebastian  Cabot,  who  had  accompanied  him  on  his 
disastrous  voyage  up  the  River  Plate. 

In  Santo  Domingo  he  found  remains  of  the 
expeditions  that  had  been  in  Venezuela  with  Captains 
Sedeno  and  Orgaz.  These  were  all  men  accustomed 
to  the  climate  and  experienced  in  Indian  warfare,  and 
proved  a  tower  of  strength  to  him  when  he  began  to 
fight.  They  advised  him  to  have  made  articulated 
breastplates  of  stout  leather,  as  a  defence  against  the 
poisoned  arrows  used  by  the  Indians  of  the  coast. 

He  then  sailed  for  Cartagena,  taking  on  board 
forty-seven  horses,  but  so  stormy  is  the  Caribbean  Sea, 
and  the  ships  of  that  time  were  so  slow  and  little  sea- 
worthy, that  twenty-seven  of  the  horses  perished  in 
the  short  crossing  from  the  islands  to  the  coast. 
This  was  a  great  misfortune,  for  horses  played  so 
great  a  part  in  all  the  battles  of  the  conquest  of  the 
Americas. 

It  is  uncertain  whether  Cartagena1  was  first  so 
called  by  Ojeda  or  by  Bastidas  ;2  but  when  Don  Pedro 

1  The  Indian  name  was  Calamar. 

2  Rodrigo  de  Bastidas  was  a  native  of  Seville,  who  founded  Santa 
Marta.  He  died  of  the  effects  of  wounds  given  him  in  a  mutiny, 
though  he  reached  Cuba  before  his  death.  Padre  Simon,  in  his 
u  Historia  de  la  Conquista  de  Tierra  Firme,"  says  of  him  that  "  he 
was  a  man  of  good  reputation  and  good  family,  and  esteemed  by  all." 
The  great  Las  Casas  writes  of  him  :  "I  always  knew  him  kind  in  his 
dealings  with  the  Indians,  and  a  severe  critic  [blasfemaba  de  los  que 


42  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

de  Heredia  arrived  there,  it  already  bore  that  name. 
Here,  the  expedition  ran  considerable  danger,  for  they 
made  their  land-fall  close  to  Santa  Marta,  and 
coasting  on,  as  was  the  habit  in  those  days,  were 
nearly  wrecked  somewhere  about  the  mouth  of  the 
River  Magdalena ;  probably  not  far  from  the  point 
which  juts  out  near  the  long  pier  of  Puerto  Colombia, 
called  Sabanilla  by  the  Spaniards  of  those  days. 
Colonel  Acosta1  says  that  Heredia's  vessels  entered 
the  harbour  by  the  Boca  Grande  (now  closed  up), 
but  that  they  did  not  disembark  until  next  day. 

No  Indians  were  to  be  seen,  but  a  horse  having 
wandered  off  to  feed,  the  Indians  came  out  of  a  wood 
and  tried  to  seize  upon  him.  Heredia,  with  fifteen 
men,  attacked  them  and  drove  them  all  before  him 
to  their  village  (Calamar),  which  they  deserted  upon 
his  approach.  Water  was  scarce  and  brackish,  so, 
guided  by  an  old  Indian  called  Corinche,  whom  they 
had  taken  prisoner,  but  who  stayed  with  them  volun- 
tarily (perhaps  attracted  by  the  novelty  of  all  he  saw 
amongst  them),  they  set  out  for  a  place  called  Zamba, 
farther  down  the  coast.  Heredia  had  brought  with 
him  from  Santo  Domingo  an  Indian  girl  from  Zamba, 
who  had  been  taken  prisoner  several  years  before. 
She  had  been  baptized  by  the  name  of  Catalina,  and 
had  become  a  Christian,  and,  as  often  happened  in 
those    days  with    Indian    prisoners,  proved   of  great 


les  hacian  agravios]  of  those  who  injured  them."  This  was  high 
praise  from  such  a  man,  and  Las  Casas  was  always  sparing  of  his 
praise. 

1  "Compendio  Historicodel  Descubrimiento  de  la  Nueva  Granada" 
(Paris,  1848). 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  43 

service  to  the  conquerors.  How  much  Cortes  was 
helped  in  Mexico  by  the  Indian  princess  called 
Malinche,  is  one  of  the  romantic  episodes  of  the 
whole  great  adventure  of  the  conquest  of  America. 

As  they  marched  on,  Heredia  riding  on  a  fiery 
horse — for,  as  the  chronicler  remarks,  "  the  things  and 
animals  of  men  take  on  a  likeness  to  their  masters  " 
— they  came  upon  a  town.  The  inhabitants  attacked 
them  furiously.  The  battle  raged  three  hours,  and 
Heredia  lost  two  horses  and  a  man  or  two.  As  he 
was  "  lancing  and  disembowelling  the  Indians  with 
great  satisfaction,"1  he  nearly  perished,  suffocated  by 
his  steel  cuirass  and  helmet,  designed  for  use  in  the 
colder  climates  of  the  north.  He  would  have  fallen 
from  his  horse,  and  in  that  case  have  lost  his  life,  had 
not  his  followers,  perceiving  the  condition  he  was  in, 
rushed  up  and  hastened  to  disarm  him  speedily. 
This  saved  his  life,  and  he  was  spared  to  lance  and 
disembowel  many  Indians  at  a  future  date,  no  doubt 
with  equal  satisfaction  to  himself.  These  Indians 
were  the  Turbacos,  and  in  their  territory,  not  far 
from  where  their  village  was,  and  where  now  stands 
the  town  of  Turbaco,  are  to  be  found  the  celebrated 
little  mud- volcanoes,  described  by  Humboldt  in  his 
account  of  Venezuela  and  Colombia. 

They  are  situated  in  a  glade  underneath  a  hill,  are 
about  eighteen  in  number,  and  now  and  then  send  up 

1  "  Iba  cebandose  en  alancear  y  destripar  los  Indios"  (PadreSimon). 
He  did  not  always  have  things  all  his  own  way,  for  on  one  occasion 
his  horse,  a  hard-mouthed  brute  ("tenia  un  caballo  tan  duro  de 
boca  ")  took  him  into  the  middle  of  the  enemy.  The  horse  emerged 
so  full  of  arrows  that  he  looked  like  a  hedgehog,  says  Father  Simon. 
Its  life  was  saved  by  repeated  bathings  in  salt-water.  N  Thus,  he  did 
not  die,  as  so  many  [horses  ?]  died,  by  arrow  wounds." 


44  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

a  shower  of  mud.  In  fact,  the  little  cones  are  more 
like  geysers  than  volcanoes,  for  some  of  them  are  but 
flat,  open  mouths.  From  Turbaco  comes  the  water 
which  to-day  supplies  the  capital.  Curiously  enough, 
the  want  of  water  in  Turbaco  in  those  days  was  what 
led  Heredia  to  retrace  his  steps  to  Cartagena  when 
he  determined  to  erect  a  town. 

Before  he  started  on  his  backward  journey  to  the 
coast,  he  conscientiously  burned  down  the  Indian 
village,  leaving  it,  as  Padre  Simon  tells  us,  "  a  heap 
of  ashes,  and  having  abandoned  heaps  of  the  bodies 
of  dead  Indians  to  the  birds  of  prey."  To  do  him 
justice,  the  good  Father  does  not  exult  in  the  exploit 
of  Heredia,  but  tells  the  episode  quite  feelingly,  much 
in  the  spirit  that  a  man,  seated  in  his  club,  who  reads 
that  an  earthquake  has  overwhelmed  ten  or  twelve 
thousand  Chinamen  in  some  remote  place  on  the 
Yiangsi,  exclaims,  "  Poor  things  !"  and  goes  on  with 
his  tea. 

Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  solemnly  founded  the  city 
of  Cartagena,  and  named  magistrates  on  January  21st, 
under  the  patronage  of  St.  Sebastian,  both  because  it 
was  his  day,  and  in  remembrance  of  his  own  escape 
from  poisoned  arrows  in  the  fight.  I  should  be 
loath  to  disagree  with  any  member  of  the  clergy  on  such 
a  point  as  the  right  day  that  appertains  to  any  saint. 
Padre  Simon  was  a  professional,  and  it  is  seldom  wise 
to  disagree  with  men  about  points  of  their  own 
profession,  as  a  mere  amateur.  For  all  that,  Father 
Ribadenyra,  in  his  "  Flos  Sanctorum,"1  a  monumental 

1  "  Flos  Sanctorum."     Por  el  Padre  Pedro  de  Ribadenyra,  de  la 
Compania  de  Jesus  (Natural  de  Toledo),  Barcelona,  en  la  Imprenta 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  45 

work,  in  which  are  to  be  read  the  lives  and  miracles 
of  all  the  saints  of  any  consequence,  says  that  the 
saint  of  Narbonne  passed  into  Paradise  upon  the 
twentieth  of  the  month. 

As  the  Bay  of  Cartagena  was  rich  in  fishings, 
several  Indian  tribes  were  found  established  on  its 
shores.  In  Boca  Chica  there  reigned  a  chief  called 
Carex,  and  when  Heredia  heard  of  him  he  sent  the 
Indian  woman  Catalina  to  offer  him  the  friendship  of 
the  King  of  Spain.  The  chief,  who  probably  had 
heard  about  the  exploits  of  the  Spaniards  up  and  down 
the  coast,  replied  that  the  Christians  were  only  a  band 
of  thieves  and  murderers,  and,  for  his  part,  he  would 
resist  them  to  the  death. 

Heredia,  of  course,  set  out  to  reduce  the  village, 
and  after  a  stiff  fight,  in  which  he  killed  many  of  the 
Indians,  took  the  chief  prisoner.  In  this  adventure 
they  took  an  Indian  who  united  in  himself  the 
threefold  functions  of  doctor,  sorcerer,  and  priest — 
functions  which  even  now  are  sometimes  to  be  found 
united  in  one  man. 

Padre  Simon  calls  him  a  person  of  some  repute 
in  the  district.1  Therefore  Heredia  elevated  him  to 
the  position  of  ambassador  and  sent  him  on  a  mission 
to  a  chief.  This  reputable  man,  whose  name,  as  it 
chanced,  was  Caron,  set  out  in  a  canoe.  No  one  at 
first  was  willing  to  accompany  him,  for  everybody 
felt  instinctively  that,  after  the  fighting  at  Turbaco 
and    with    Carex,    it    was    perilous    to    visit    other 

de  Teresa  Piferrer,  viuda,  administrada  por  Thomas  Piferrer,  librero, 
ano  1 75 1.     Vendese  en  su  casa,  en  la  Plaza  del  Angel. 
1  "  Persona  de  respeto  en  la  comarca." 


46  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

tribes.  At  last  two  youthful  Spaniards  offered  their 
services.  Caron  set  out  with  them  to  see  a  chief  by 
the  name  of  Bahaire  at  a  place  now  known  as 
Pasacaballos,  where  steamers  going  up  the  coast  call 
at  to  take  in  wood.  It  stands  just  at  the  mouth  of 
what  is  called  a  "  cano" — that  is,  a  narrow  channel  in  a 
mangrove  swamp  upon  a  sandy  flat.  It  cannot  have 
been  very  different  in  those  days,  except  that  it  was 
peopled  by  Bahaire's  Indians,  instead  of  negroes  as  at 
the  present  time. 

Bahaire,  evidently,  was  a  man  of  a  quick  temper, 
though  he  intended  to  accept  the  peace  that  Caron 
offered  him.  He  called  a  council,  but,  as  the 
chronicler  of  those  events  informs  us,  "  only  for  form's 
sake,  to  satisfy  his  people,"  just  as  occurs,  so  says  the 
ancient  writer,  in  the  like  circumstances,  even  in 
Christian  lands.1  This  may  be  so,  though  it  makes 
lamentable  reading  for  friends  of  progress  and  for 
optimists.  At  the  great  council  of  the  tribe,  Bahaire 
declared  his  views,  saying  that  it  was  prudent  to  make 
peace  with  adversaries  such  as  were  the  Spaniards, 
who  with  their  horses  and  their  firearms  were 
irresistible. 

All  would  have  passed  off  quietly  with  the  usual 
vote  of  confidence  in  the  government,  had  not  an 
opposition  chieftain  risen  to  speak.  This  patriot, 
whose  name  is  not  preserved  by  history  for  us,  taunted 
Bahaire  with  his  cowardice.  He  called  him  traitor, 
said  he  was  afraid  to  face  the  enemy  ;  in  fact,  he  made 
the  opposition  speech  usual  in  parliaments. 

1  "  Christian  lands "  seem  to  have  changed  but  little,  in  their 
political  morality,  since  the  conquest  of  America. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  47 

Bahaire,  who,  as  it  would  appear,  but  little  under- 
stood the  freedom  of  debate,  or  was  restrained  by 
parliamentary  methods,  raising  his  club,  at  one  fell 
blow  dashed  out  the  speaker's  brains.  No  one  else 
rising  to  continue  the  debate,  the  vote  was  carried  and 
peace  agreed  upon  between  this  energetic  parlia- 
mentary hand  and  the  King  of  Castile. 

Heredia  himself,  in  a  letter  to  the  King,1  says 
that  he  was  anxious  as  to  the  fate  of  the  two  young 
Spaniards  who  had  accompanied  his  ambassador. 
They  happened  to  be  Andaluces,  and  Heredia  was 
rejoiced  to  find  them  safe.  The  treaty  that  he  made 
with  the  vehement  Bahaire  brought  him  in,  as  he 
tells  us,  seventy  thousand  dollars,  mostly  in  gold-dust 
and  in  precious  stones. 

The  subsistence  of  the  colony  assured,  and  the 
treasury  well  filled,  Heredia  naturally  set  out  to  look 
for  gold,  after  the  fashion  of  the  conquerors.  He 
showed  the  Indians  by  ocular  demonstration  that  it 
was  to  their  interests  to  be  friends  with  him,  for  if 
they  hesitated,  he  burned  their  villages  and  killed  a 
goodly  number  of  them,  as  Castellanos,  a  contemporary 
historian  (or  chronicler),  tells  us  with  quiet  satisfac- 
tion, as  if  their  slaughter  was  an  ordinary  thing 
during  those  stirring  times. 

In  Cipagua,  Heredia  found  a  temple  in  which  an 
idol  was  adored  under  the  figure  of  a  porcupine. 
This  idol  stirred  his  pious  wrath  exceedingly,  for  it 
was  made  of  gold.  He  cast  it  down  at  once,  holding 
it  for  another  Dagon,  as  it  would  appear,  and  saying 
that  he    could    not    tolerate   such    bestiality.2     This 

1  Philip  II. 

2  "  Que  no  podia  consentir  tan  bestiales  idolatrias." 


48  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

bestial  idol  weighed  five  arrobas1  and  a  half,  as 
Castellanos  tells  us,  and  proved  the  largest  ever  found 
in  New  Granada,  so  that  the  faith  of  him  who  threw 
it  down,  was  justified  by  weight.  The  priest  of  Tunja 
goes  on  to  remark,  "  the  hawk-bells,  axes,  and  red  caps 
the  conqueror  gave  the  cacique  of  the  place  consoled 
him  for  his  idol."2  This  may  have  been  so ;  but  an  idol 
of  such  size  was  poorly  paid  for  by  the  small  products 
of  the  industry  of  Spain  the  conqueror  disbursed. 
Ideas  of  that  sort  never  troubled  conquerors,  and  so 
Heredia  set  out  again,  seeking  for  idols  to  destroy, 
and  to  implant  the  faith.  After  a  five  months' 
journey  he  returned  to  his  new  town,  and  entered  it 
in  triumph,  bringing  a  million  and  a  quarter  ducats 
with  him,  and  mostly  all  in  gold.  This  tried  icono- 
clast, after  deducting  the  fifth  part  of  his  loot,  which 
he  sent  to  the  King,  being  his  share  according  to 
capitulations  entered  into  before  Heredia  set  out,  at 
Seville,  reserved  a  portion  for  the  governor  (himself), 
and  after  he  had  given  largely  to  the  hospital  and 
paid  his  captains,  still  had  enough  to  pay  the  soldiers 
in  his  troop  six  thousand  ducats  each. 

So  great  a  treasure  did  not  fall  to  the  lot  either  of 
Pizarro  or  Cortes,  or  else  those  conquerors  were  not 
so  generous  with  their  gold,  as  was  Heredia.  Honour 
and  profit  cannot  be  carried  in  one  bag,  the  adage  has 
it  ;  but  it  would  seem  that  faith  and  profit  sometimes 
may  go  together,  at  least  a  portion  of  the  way. 

1  The  arroba  was  about  twenty-five  pounds. 

2  Juan  de  Castellanos  was  the  parish  priest  of  Tunja,  a  town  in 
the  Sabana  of  Bogota.  His  "  Elegias  de  Varones  ilustres  de  Indias  " 
was  printed  in  Madrid  in  1589. 


CHAPTER  V 

In  about  a  year  after  its  first  foundation  Cartagena 
began  to  take  on  the  appearance  of  a  capital.  The 
frequent  traffic  between  it  and  the  Islands  kept  it  in 
touch  with  Spain.  Everyone  who  anchored  in  the 
bay  was  struck  with  its  extent  and  its  security  from 
storms.  Houses  began  to  rise  with  great  rapidity, 
built  in  the  style  of  houses  in  the  mother-country. 
In  fact,  many  of  the  houses  that  still  adorn  the  streets 
were  built  but  little  after  the  first  conquest  of  the 
place.  Merchants  flocked  to  the  new-built  town, 
which  soon  became  a  centre  both  of  commerce  and 
of  wealth.  All  the  time  it  was  growing,  Heredia 
was  being  reinforced  with  men  and  horses  from  Santo 
Domingo  and  the  other  islands  of  the  Caribbean  Sea. 

Castellanos,  who,  though  a  priest,  seems  to  have 
been  what  in  old  times  was  called  a  wag,  speaks  of 
the  ladies  who  came  from  Spain  looking  out  for 
adventures.  Some,  as  he  says,  followed  their  own 
sweet  will,  whilst  others  were  a  little  more  restrained 
by  what  he  calls  "  the  ties  of  matrimony."1 

It  seems  these  feminine  knights-errant  always  laid 
claim  to  relationship  with  greater  families2  than  they 

1  "  Maritales  ligaduras." 

2  "  Una  se  puso  Dona  Berenguela,  otra  hizo  llamarse  Dona 
Sancha,  de  manera  que  de  genealogia  esa  tomaba  mas  "  (Castellanos, 
*  Elegias  de  Varones  ilustres  de  Indias  "). 

49  4- 


/ 


So  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

had  any  right  to  claim.  This  shows  how  well 
advised  the  Anglo-Saxons  were  to  invent  the  peerage ; 
it  gave  them  scope,  as  a  wit  said,  to  show  their  best 
imagination  in  the  art  of  literature,  and  put  a  bar 
to  Dona  Berenguelas  and  Dona  Sanchas  to  pose  as 
peeresses,  either  in  Canada,  New  Zealand,  or  in 
Australia. 

Heredia's  next  expedition  was  to  the  Sinu.  Not 
that  he  knew  he  was  going  there,  or  even  of  its 
existence,  for  he  tells  us  that  as  his  expedition 
marched  along,  devoured  by  thirst,  and  hardly  know- 
ing what  direction  to  pursue,  sheltering  themselves 
against  the  overwhelming  heat  in  dry  ravines  and 
under  scrubby  trees,  they  chanced  to  meet  two 
Indians  who  came  out  from  a  little  hamlet  that  they 
passed.  These  men,  a  father  and  his  son,  talked 
with  them,  and  one,  perhaps  in  exchange  for  hawk- 
bells,  or  some  other  indication  of  the  power  and 
wealth  of  Spain,  gave  them  a  plate  of  gold. 

When  they  asked  where  it  came  from  they  said 
from  Finzenu.1  The  sight  of  gold,  and  the  knowledge 
that  more  was  to  be  obtained  at  no  great  distance  off, 
always  acted  upon  the  Spaniards  of  the  Middle  Ages 
as  a  magnet  does  on  iron  filings.  Nature  changes  but 
little  in  the  course  of  centuries.  The  miserable  search 
after  riches  that  took  place  at  the  first  conquest  of 

1  Fray  Francisco  de  G6mara,  in  his  "  Historia  General  de  las 
Indias,"  says  :  "  Zenu  es  rio  lugar  y  pesca,  puerto  grande  y  seguro  " 
— that  is,  "  Zenu  is  a  river,  a  district,  and  a  large,  safe  port."  The 
port  is  that  now  called  Cispata.  He  goes  on  to  say  there  is  much  salt 
there,  and  good  fishings  on  the  coast.  The  Indians  work  silver  well, 
and  gild  it  with  herbs  that  grow  on  that  coast.  The  salt  remains ; 
but  the  few  Indians  that  are  left  are  sunk  too  low  to  work  at  anything 
except  to  make  their  bows  and  arrows  and  their  spears. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  51 

America  was  repeated  in  South  Africa,  but  twenty 
years  ago.  The  only  difference  was  that  amongst  the 
Spaniards  many  men  of  lofty  character  rose  superior 
to  the  base  race  for  wealth,  and  in  South  Africa  all 
the  scum  drawn  from  the  ghettoes  and  the  Stock 
Exchanges  of  Europe  appear  to  have  been  vile. 

The  Indians  whom  they  met  guided  them  across  the 
mountains,  which,  as  Heredia  says,  though  not  extra- 
ordinarily high,  are  bad  and  rough  for  horses.1  In 
this  I  certainly  can  bear  him  out,  having  had  to  lead  my 
horse  for  several  miles  through  virgin  forests,  over  a 
mountain  path,  and  with  a  temperature  of  a  hundred 
degrees  Fahrenheit.  After  the  mountains  had  been 
passed  the  expedition  came  out  on  an  extensive  plain, 
and  a  short  distance  on  came  to  an  Indian  town 
surrounded  by  a  multitude  of  little  tumuli. 

This  was  the  Indian  cemetery  of  Finzenu,  in  which 
the  Indians  buried  all  their  chiefs.  Inside  these  graves, 
when  they  were  opened,  the  Spaniards  found  an 
incredible  quantity  of  gold.  The  place  was  ruled 
over  by  a  chieftainess,  who  with  her  husband  received 
the  Spaniards  hospitably.  Heredia  seems  to  have 
entirely  lost  his  head  when  he  heard  of  the  buried 
treasure  in  the  cemetery.  Up  to  this  time  he  certainly 
had  not  been  cruel  to  the  Indians,  and  he  had  shown 
himself  most  generous  to  all  his  followers.  He  sacked 
the  town  in  which  he  had  been  hospitably  entertained. 
That  nothing  should^  be  wanting,  in  a  temple  in  the 
town  the  Spaniards  found  some  four  and  twenty  idols, 
but  not  so  bestial  as  the  great  idol  that  first  excited 

1  "La  sierra  ...  no  muy  alta  pero  de  tierra  fragosa  para  los 
caballos." 


52  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Heredia's  pious  fury,  for  they  were  only  cased  in  gold. 
A  sad  deception,  which  showed  such  a  deceitful 
attitude  of  the  infidel  that  Heredia  was  almost 
justified  in  what  he  did.  However,  as  a  compensation 
to  these  Christians  ambulant,  hung  on  some  trees 
outside  the  temple  were  several  bells  of  gold.  These, 
one  of  the  chroniclers  of  the  expedition  says,  they 
also  tore  down  and  found  the  worth  of  them — together 
with  the  shabby  idols,  we  may  suppose — to  total  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  crowns.  Thus  did 
Heredia  pursue  his  missionary  course,  upon  the  one 
side  laying  up  merit  for  himself  by  the  destruction  of 
false  gods,  and  on  the  other  accumulating  wealth. 

All  might  have  gone  on  well  with  him  had  he  not 
turned  ungenerous  to  his  soldiers.  These  men,  each 
and  all  of  whom  were  just  as  ardent  in  their  faith  as 
was  their  leader,  and  just  as  eager  to  amass  wealth  for 
themselves  as  he,  held  it  as  flat  blasphemy  that  they 
should  be  defrauded  of  their  gains.  This  was  the  sin 
against  their  Holy  Ghost,  a  thing  never  to  be  condoned, 
and  from  that  time  a  party  rose  that  in  the  future 
threw  him  into  prison  and  forcedihim  in  the  long  run 
to  return  to  Spain  to  plead  before  the  King,  perishing 
miserably  in  a  shipwreck  on  the  way.  For  the 
meantime,  however,  all  went  well  with  him. 

By  an  ingenious  stratagem,  after  having  buried 
three  hundred  thousand  crowns  that  he  took  from 
the  Indian  tumuli,  he  got  the  expedition  to  move  on 
farther  into  the  undiscovered  country,  intending  to 
send  his  slaves  from  Cartagena  to  dig  the  treasure  up. 
It  always  seems  amazing  where  the  great  quantities  of 
gold  found  by  the  conquerors  came  from,  not  only  in 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  53 

Peru  and  Mexico,  but  by  Heredia  in  the  district  of 
Sinu.  In  fact,  so  plentifully  was  gold  found  in  the 
Indian  cemeteries  of  the  Sinu  that  it  became  a 
common  saying,  "  It  was  an  ill  day  for  Peru  when 
they  discovered  the  Sinu."  Either  the  gold  had  been 
accumulated  by  degrees  during  past  centuries,  or  else 
the  Indians  knew  of  mines,  whose  secret  perished  with 
them.  Certainly  in  no  part  of  the  whole  continent 
has  gold  been  found  in  quantities  comparable  to  those 
found  at  the  conquest  by  Heredia,  Pizarro,  or  Cortes. 

Padre  Simon  says  that  the  Spaniards  called  the 
tumuli  "  mogotes,"  a  word  generally  applied  to  hills 
of  sand  that  run  out  on  a  beach. 

Heredia's  guide  (the  Indian  who  gave  the  little 
plate  of  gold)  was  the  first  to  inform  what  wealth  lay 
buried  in  the  mogotes  that  were  scattered  about  the 
plain  for  miles.  The  soldiers  were  unwilling  to  leave 
the  place  where  for  a  week  they  had  been  opening 
tombs,  some  of  them,  according  to  Oviedo,1  so  rich  as 
to  produce  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand  dollars  each. 
However,  partly  by  threats,  and  partly  by  persuading 
them  that  there  was  much  more  treasure  to  be  found 
the  farther  they  penetrated  into  the  undiscovered 
territory,  he  got  them  to  march  on.  The  expedition 
that  had  left  Cartagena,  richly  equipped  and  clothed, 
two  hundred  infantry  in  strength  and  fifty  cavalry, 
was  now  much  worn  with  fevers  and  with  hardships, 
and  looked  just  like  a  tribe  of  gipsies  as  they  tramped 
onwards  into  the  unknown,  driving  the  baggage- 
mules  and  the  horses  of  the  cavalry  in  front  of  them, 
all  loaded  up  with  gold.  A  certain  number  of  the  men 
1  "  Historia  Natural  de  las  Indias." 


54  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

had  died ;  others  had  been  killed  in  the  continual 
skirmishes  with  the  Indians.  This  did  not  damp  the 
survivors  in  the  least,  for  they,  like  all  the  Spaniards  of 
the  conquest,  cared  not  a  whit  for  dangers,  heat,  cold, 
or  hunger,  if  there  was  gold  in  view. 

After  long  days  of  painful  wandering  they  came 
to  what  was  known  as  the  land  of  Zenufana,  which 
seems  to  have  been  the  borders  of  the  province  now 
called  Antioquia,  for  they  arrived  at  really  high 
mountains,  and  there  are  none  such  in  the  district 
through  which  flows  the  Sinu.  It  was  the  season  of 
the  rains,  that  in  Colombia  are  torrential,  and  the 
whole  expedition,  once  engaged  in  the  defiles  of  the 
high  mountains,  suffered  most  terribly  from  cold. 

Most  of  the  Indians  that  they  had  impressed  to 
serve  as  carriers  died  of  the  change  of  climate,  for 
they  were  all  men  born  in  one  of  the  hottest  districts 
of  the  world,1  most  likely  were  half-naked,  and  were 
sure  to  have  been  overworked.  Little  enough  the 
conquerors  cared  about  the  death  of  Indians,  but, 
unluckily,  their  guides  were  amongst  those  who 
perished  of  the  cold.  The  Indians,  who  saw  the 
plight  the  Spaniards  were  in,  attacked  them  every 
minute  of  the  day,  and  to  complete  the  difficulties 
of  the  position  the  rivers  rose  behind  them,  cutting 
them  off  completely  from  the  fertile  lands  of  the 
Sinu. 

Heredia,  who  was  a  born  leader,  seeing  that  force 

was    out    of   place,    entered    into    negotiations    with 

the  Indians,  and    prevailed  on    them    to  build   him 

bridges  over  the  river  that  barred  his  way  upon  his 

1  El  Departamento  de  Bolivar. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  5s 

retreat.  How  far  he  actually  got  towards  Antioquia 
is  difficult  to  say,  but  as  he  had  been  marching  for 
a  month  he  must  have  gone  some  way.  Colonel 
Acosta1  tells  us  that  Heredia  began  to  scale  the 
mountains  on  March  24th.  As  he  left  Cartagena  on 
January  8th,  and  passed  a  month  opening  the  mogotes 
that  he  found  at  Finzenu,  he  must  have  employed 
the  remainder  of  his  time  in  his  march  towards 
the  mountains.  He  could  not  have  remained 
more  than  a  few  days  in  such  a  temperature  or  he 
would  have  lost  most  of  his  horses  and  his  men. 

The  more  the  history  of  the  conquest  of  America 
is  studied — no  matter  whether  in  the  tropic  woods  of 
Panama,  amongst  the  snows  of  the  high  mountains  of 
Peru,  in  Chile  or  in  Mexico,  or  in  the  expedition 
that  Heredia  led  to  the  Sinu — the  more  extraordinary 
always  must  appear  the  courage  and  the  tenacity  of 
the  Spaniards  of  the  time.  Although  their  arms  were 
far  superior  to  the  arms  the  Indians  had,  and  their 
horses  gave  them  an  immense  advantage,  yet  their 
numbers  were  always  small. 

The  guns  they  had,  carried  but  little  distance,  and 
were  slow  to  load,  so  that,  unlike  the  modern 
openers -up  of  Africa,  they  could  not  slaughter 
their  enemies  with  safety  to  themselves  at  long 
range,  but  frequently  fought  hand  to  hand  with 
armies  three  times  as  numerous  as  theirs.  The  pity 
of  it  was,  like  other  openers-up  of  darker  continents, 
they  came  to  invade  the  lands  of  other  people  who 
had  never  done  them  harm. 

As  always  happens  in  an  expedition  that  has  got 
1  "  Compendio  Historico,"  etc. 


56  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

into  trouble,  the  Spaniards  threw  the  blame  upon  the 
general.  Being  a  general  he  ought  to  have  produced 
rain  or  fine  weather  exactly  as  he  pleased,  smoothed 
out  all  difficulties,  and  foreseen  everything. 

Seeing  the  temper  of  his  men,  Heredia  resolved 
to  return  to  Cartagena  with  the  best  speed  possible. 
After  a  painful  march  they  arrived  there,  but  so  few 
in  number,  and  so  much  wasted  by  hardships  and 
disease,  that  they  were  scarcely  recognizable.  The 
death  of  about  a  third  of  the  men  who  had  set  out  was 
the  gain  of  the  survivors,  for  it  left  fewer  to  share  the 
booty  when  it  was  counted  out.  After  laying  on  one 
side  the  fifth  part  due  to  the  King  of  Spain,  Heredia  had 
left  four  hundred  thousand  crowns ;  these  he  shared  out 
amongst  his  men.  As  by  the  time  that  he  returned 
his  whole  force  numbered  less  than  two  hundred,  the 
booty  was  immense.  The  poorest  soldier  had  enough 
with  which  to  return  home  to  Spain  and  end  his  days 
in  comfort  and  in  ease.  Few  did  so.  The  majority 
spent  all  their  money  upon  fine  clothes  and  arms,  on 
horses  that  they  sent  for  to  the  Islands,1  in  dissipation, 
and  at  the  gambling  table.  Padre  Simon  relates  that 
when  the  deputy  whom  Heredia  had  left  in  Cartagena 
heard  the  news  of  the  riches  of  the  mogotes  of  the 
Sinu,  "taking  his  nose  between  his  fingers  he  began  to 
sing."2 

1  Cuba,  Santo  Domingo,  and  Jamaica. 

2  "  Quedo  tan  alegre  que  tomendose  las  narices  entre  las  manos, 
commenz6  a  cantar."  Though  I  have  seen  an  Arab  singer  in  the 
town  of  Fez  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears  before  he  broke  into  the  high 
falsetto  voice  in  which  the  Arabs  of  Morocco  sing,  the  action  of  the 
deputy  governor  of  Cartagena,  I  confess,  is  new  to  me.  It  may  have 
some  occult  significance,  not  yet  made  plain  to  us. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  $7 

Certainly,  if  wealth  without  having  ventured 
anything  to  acquire  it  is  food  for  joy,  his  curious  sing- 
ing was  well  justified.  However,  not  content  with 
this  transient  and  Punch-like  manifestation  of  his 
interior  spiritual  grace,  he  too  determined  to  set  out 
for  the  Sinii  to  open  sepulchres. 

In  Heredia's  absence  Fray  Tomas  Toro,  the  first 
Bishop  of  Cartagena,  had  arrived.  With  him  came 
Don  Alonso  de  Heredia,  the  brother  of  Don  Pedro, 
one  of  the  conquerors  of  Guatemala.  Heredia,  with 
a  disregard  of  policy  that  does  him  little  credit, 
immediately  appointed  his  brother  his  lieutenant- 
general,  depriving  Don  Francisco  Cesar  of  the  post. 
As  Cesar  had  served  him  faithfully  since  the  first  day 
they  landed,  was  a  brave  soldier  and  a  man  of  parts, 
to  deprive  him  of  his  post  just  after  a  campaign 
looked  like  rank  favouritism. 

In  general,  Spanish  commanders  of  these  days, 
even  when  superseded  justly  and  on  the  orders  of  the 
Kings  of  Spain,  were  wont  to  raise  the  standard  of 
revolt.  Both  in  the  conquests  of  Peru  and  Mexico 
revolts  of  that  kind  took  place  that  often  put  the  new- 
conquered  territory  in  the  greatest  danger,  and  were 
the  cause  of  much  blood  being  shed. 

Luckily  for  Heredia  and  for  all  concerned,  and 
for  the  safety  of  the  infant  colony,  Francisco  Cesar 
was  a  man  of  a  very  different  stamp  from  the  great 
part  of  his  contemporaries.  Few  braver  men  or  finer 
captains  ever  passed  to  the  New  World.  Courage 
was  general  enough  amongst  the  conquerors,  and 
military  skill  not  rare,  as  many  of  them  had  served 
in  the  Italian  wars.     Few  showed  much  abnegation, 


58  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

and  few  such  probity  and  sense  of  discipline  as  Cesar 
did  after  his  unjust  treatment  by  his  general. 

His  deposition  caused  much  ill  feeling  amongst 
the  soldiery,  but  he  himself  accepted  it  without  a 
murmur,  and,  when  he  was  appointed  by  his  chief  to 
head  another  expedition  to  the  Sinu,  busied  himself 
industriously  to  get  all  ready  for  the  road.  In 
August  of  the  year  1534  he  set  out  with  about  two 
hundred  men,  and  in  due  course  arrived  at  the  Sinu. 
The  rains  which  generally  begin  about  that  time  in 
the  province  of  Bolivar,  and  last  two  months  or  more, 
caught  Cesar  and  his  men  just  as  they  arrived  at  the 
great  cemetery.  They  could  not  work  for  the  bad 
weather,  and  even  had  there  been  no  rain  nothing 
remained  for  them  to  work  at,  for  the  Indians  during 
their  absence  had  stripped  the  sepulchres  and  carried 
off  the  gold.  Where  they  had  hidden  it  no  one  was 
ever  able  to  find  out.  Its  resting-place  remains  a 
mystery,  for  it  disappeared  as  absolutely  as  did  the 
bulk  of  the  treasures  of  the  Incas  of  Peru.  In  the 
latter  country  Indians  are  said  still  to  possess  the  secret 
of  the  Incas'  treasure-houses,  but,  if  it  is  so,  the  secret 
never  was  revealed  to  any  member  of  the  dominating 
race.  In  Peru  and  in  the  Sinu  alone  did  the 
Spaniards  ever  come  on  Indian  cemeteries  that 
furnished  quantities  of  gold. 

Since  the  days  of  the  conquest  nothing  further  of 
the  kind  has  been  found  in  the  Sinu.  The  very  site 
of  the  Indian  town  of  Finzenu  has  become  a  matter 
of  some  doubt,  although  the  excavations  made  by  the 
Spaniards  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  find.  In  Peru 
the  opening  up  of  huacas,  as  the  Indian  graves  are 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  59 

called,  is  still  an  industry,  though  finds  of  treasure  are 
infrequent,  the  violated  tombs  yielding  but  little  else 
than  pottery  and  a  few  images.  So  little  has  been 
written1  on  the  Indian  cemetery  of  Finzenu,  except 
what  is  to  be  found  in  the  pages  either  of  Piedrahita2 
or  of  Padre  Simon,  that  the  whole  subject  has  fallen 
into  oblivion,  and  hardly  a  Colombian  in  a  hundred 
seems  to  have  heard  of  them.  The  description  of  the 
Indian  funeral  rites  and  of  the  cemetery  itself,  pre- 
served by  Padre  Simon,  is  interesting,  and  shows  he 
was  a  man  of  keenest  observation,  and  took  deep 
interest  in  the  antiquities  of  the  newly  conquered 
land.3 

"  The  cemetery  of  Zenu,"  he  tells  us,  "  was 
composed  of  an  infinity  of  tumuli,  some  conical  and 
some  foursquare.  When  an  Indian  died  they  dug 
a  grave,  and  in  it  with  the  corpse  they  put  his  arms 
and  valuables,  laying  them  on  his  left  side — that 
is,  the  left  side,  looking  to  the  east.  All  round  the 
body  were  placed  jars  of  chicha,4  maize  in  the  cob, 

1  Nothing,  as  far  as  I  have  ever  found. 

2  "  Historia  General  de  las  Conquistas  del  Nuevo  Reino  de 
Granada." 

8  Most  of  the  contemporary  writers  on  the  conquest  were  equally 
observant  and  interested  in  everything.  Cortes,  Bernal  Diaz  del 
Castillo,  Pedro  Cieza  de  Leon,  and  many  others,  have  left  minute 
descriptions  of  all  they  saw.  One,  whose  name  is  lost  and  who 
figures  as  the  "  Unknown  Conqueror "  in  the  pages  of  Ramuzio's 
"Voyages,"  has  left  a  drawing  of  the  great  teocalli  (temple  of 
Mexico).  Dictionaries  might  be  exhausted  and  academies  toil  vainly 
to  produce  a  more  tremendous  name,  than  the  "  Unknown  Con- 
queror."    His  only  literary  compeer,  is  Death. 

4  Chicha  is  a  fermented  beverage  made  from  maize.  In  ancient 
times  the  maize  was  chewed  by  the  old  women  of  the  tribe  to 
macerate  it.  I  believe  this  practice  still  is  followed  by  the  wilder 
tribes  upon  the  Amazon  and  Paraguay.     Advancing  civilization,  or 


6o  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

and  a  stone  to  grind  it  with,  so  that  the  warrior 
should  .have  provisions  for  the  road.  If  he  was  a 
great  chief  his  wives  and  slaves  were  buried  with 
him,  having  been  first  made  drunk.  The  whole  was 
covered  over  with  a  red  earth  that  they  brought 
from  a  place  far  away." 

As  the  mourners  remained  drinking  round  the 
grave  for  days,  and  in  the  intervals  of  funereal 
drunkenness  they  piled  more  and  more  earth  above 
the  chief,  the  consequence  of  the  deceased  was 
estimated  by  the  amount  of  drink  consumed  and  the 
height  of  the  mound. 

In  one  of  the  chief  sepulchres,  known  to  the 
Spaniards  as  "  La  Tumba  del  Diablo,"  they  found 
"  images  of  every  kind  of  animal,  from  man  down 
to  the  ant,"1  all  of  the  purest  gold.  These  objects 
Heredia  valued  at  thirty  thousand  crowns.  This 
"  Devil's  Tomb  "  must  have  resembled  some  of  the 
museums  of  Rome  and  Naples,  in  which  so  many 
animals  (including  man)  are  to  be  found  well  imitated, 
but,  alas  !  not  in  gold. 

Piedrahita  relates  that  Finzenu  was  ruled  over  by 
a  chieftainess,2  and  that  "  her  majesty  was  such3  that, 
when  she  lay   down  in  her  hamac,   she  placed  her 


degeneracy,  or  perhaps  refinement  (who  shall  judge  the  heart?),  views 
this  good  old  custom  with  disfavour,  and  the  maize  is  pounded  in  a 
mortar  in  a  mere  bourgeois  way.  Chicha  was  drunk  in  Colombia,  in 
Chile,  and  in  Peru,  and  is  drunk  to-day  in  all  these  countries.  Taken 
in  excess,  it  induces  semi-paralysis  and  idiocy. 

1  "  Encontraron  objetos  de  oro  que  eran  imitaciones  de  figuras  de 
toda  especie  de  animales,  desde  el  hombre  hasta  la  hormiga." 

2  "Cacica." 

3  "  La  majestad  de  ella  era  tal  .  .  ." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  61 

hands  upon  two  female  slaves  and  used  a  third  one  as 
a  footstool." 

All  of  the  spoilers  of  these  Indian  sepulchres  are 
said  by  Padre  Simon  to  have  come  to  a  bad  end. 
"  Impenetrable  judgment  of  the  Lord,"  he  says. 
"  All  who  violated  these  sepulchres  that,  though  they 
were  graves  of  idolaters,  were  yet  sacred  .  .  .  died  poor 
in  hospitals,  and  the  riches  they  amassed  never  passed 
to  their  sons." 

It  seems  too  good  to  be  believed,  and  one  is  left 
hoping  the  simple,  old  priest  was  right  in  what  he 
says. 


CHAPTER  VI 

All  the  time  that  the  various  expeditions  were 
exploring  the  Sinu  and  opening  Indian  graves  for 
treasure  the  town  of  Cartagena  steadily  was  being 
built.  With  great  rapidity,  the  first  thatched  hovels — 
hurriedly  run  up  to  protect  the  earliest  settlers  from  the 
tropic  rains — were  giving  place  to  tile-roofed  houses 
in  the  fashion  of  Old  Spain.  Solidly  built  mansions, 
with  a  patio  in  the  middle,  rose  as  by  magic, 
for  conquerors  who  had  grown  rich  suddenly,  wished 
to  found  families.  Most  of  them  called  to  mind 
they  were  of  noble  race,  and  if  they  were  not  it 
was  all  the  same  out  in  the  Indies.  Above  nearly 
every  door  a  massive  coat  of  arms  proclaims,  even 
to-day,  that  the  builders  of  the  houses  all  were 
"  sons  of  somebody."1 

The  usual  Spanish  plan  was  followed  of  grouping 
the  chief  buildings  round  a  square  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  town.  In  the  same  square,  built  by  the 
conquerors,  stand  the  cathedral,  the  palace  of  the 
governor,  the  House  of  the  Inquisition,  and  at  one 
corner  the  first  house  built  in  Cartagena  by  a 
conqueror.  From  the  chief  square  the  streets  radiated 
at  right  angles,  for  in  few  cities  of  the  New  World 

1  "  Hijosdalgo  " — i.e.,  "  hijos  de  algo  "  =  sons  of  somebody. 

62 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  63 

are  the  dark,  winding  lanes  of  medieval  European 
towns  to  be  observed.  Perhaps  the  knowledge  or  the 
intuition — for  who  shall  say  where  the  one  ends  and 
the  other  begins,  either  in  individuals  or  societies? — 
that  open  spaces  were  a  necessity  in  towns  within  the 
tropics,  influenced  them  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the 
chessboard  was  the  pattern  of  nearly  all  Spanish  towns 
built  by  the  conquerors.  It  has  remained  so  down  to 
the  present  day  in  Spanish  America.  Despite  it, 
Cartagena,  which  must  have  early  taken  on  the  aspect 
that  it  still  has,  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 
Whether  the  conquerors  laid  it  out  exactly  as  it  is,  is 
quite  uncertain,  although  so  many  of  its  buildings 
date  from  the  conquerors'  time.  The  great  walls,  the 
finest  in  America,  and  the  chief  ornament,  pride,  and, 
as  it  were,  achievement  of  the  town,  could  not  have 
been  begun  much  before  Philip  II.  was  on  the  throne 
of  Spain. 

When  Heredia  returned  from  the  last  expedition 
to  the  Sinu,  bringing  with  him  two  million  dollars' 
worth  of  gold,  great  stores  sprang  up  like  mushrooms, 
and  in  them  were  to  be  seen  silks,  jewels,  brocades, 
richly  embossed  saddles,  and  arms  of  every  kind.  In 
fact,  as  an  old  writer  says,  there  was  as  much  luxury 
to  be  found  in  Cartagena  as  in  Madrid  itself.  So 
much,  indeed,  did  Cartagena  imitate  Madrid  that  the 
duels  of  the   "guapos"1   and   "  valentones "   of  the 

1  "  Guapo  "  literally  =  "  handsome,"  and  by  implication  "  brave." 
The  word  is  common  in  Spain,  and  has  also  survived  from  the  time 
of  the  Spanish  domination,  in  Naples.  The  guapo  there  has  the  same 
signification  that  it  had  in  medieval  Spain — i.e.y  a  "  bravo."  In 
America  it  is  never  used  in  that  sense.  In  the  Argentine,  when 
applied  to  a  horse,  it  means  "  good  for  a  long  journey." 


64  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

capital  were  reproduced  in  the  streets  of  the  new 
city  that  was  springing  up  beyond  the  seas.  These 
nocturnal  duellists  or  rufflers,  so  like  our  Mohawksr 
were  always  known  as  "men  of  the  sword  and 
cloak."1 

The  climate  of  Cartagena,  in  which  a  man  can 
hardly  tolerate  a  shirt,  made  the  cloak  impossible,  and 
thus  these  rufflers  had  to  fight  with  their  faces 
uncovered,  and  were  not  able,  as  they  were  in 
Madrid,  to  stab  and  brawl  unknown.  So  great 
became  their  insolence  that  one  night,  as  Heredia 
himself  was  walking  in  the  front  of  his  own  house 
and  talking  to  a  friend,  he  was  set  upon  by  nine  of 
these  night-hawks.  The  experiences  of  his  youth 
now  stood  him  in  good  stead,  for  he  made  such  a 
stout  defence  and  was  so  well  assisted  by  his  friend 
that,  after  leaving  several  of  their  number  stretched 
upon  the  ground,  his  assailants  fled  and  left  him  master 
of  the  field. 

Nocturnal  brawls  of  a  like  nature  were  little  to 
Heredia's  mind,  which  was  set  on  the  exploration 
of  the  country  and  to  amass  more  gold.  His  brother, 
Don  Alonso,  to  soften  down  the  slight  done  to 
Francisco  Cesar,  made  him  his  lieutenant,  and  sent 
him  to  a  town,  then  called  Balsillas,2  to  see  a  chief  who 
ruled  there  who  was  friendly  to  their  cause.  The 
chief's  name  was  Tolu,  and  when  the  Spaniards,  under 
Alonso  de  Heredia,  founded  a  town  there,  they 
called  it  Santiago  de  Tolu,  naming  it,  as  they  often  did 

1  "  Gente  de  capa  y  espada." 

2  Balsillas = little  rafts.      The  Indians  of  the  place  were  great 
raft-builders. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  65 

in  New  Granada,  after  the  Indian  chief.  In  the  same 
way  Lorica,  on  the  Sinu,  was  so  named  after  the 
cacique  whose  residence  it  was. 

Tolii  proved  a  true  friend  to  the  Spaniards,  giving 
them  provisions  in  abundance,  and  also  ten  thousand 
castellanos1  in  pure  gold — a  goodly  sum,  taking  into 
consideration  the  much  greater  value  of  money  in 
those  days. 

Alonso  de  Heredia,  though  an  experienced 
captain,  seems  from  the  first  to  have  been  jealous  of 
his  lieutenant,  Francisco  Cesar.  When  Cesar  arrived 
in  Tolu  (then  called  Balsillas)  he  set  the  Indians  at 
work  to  build  a  raft,  in  order  to  shorten  the  journey 
from  that  port  to  Cartagena,  because  the  road,  by 
land,  lay  across  hills  and  marshes  and  through 
trackless  everglades.  This  showed  his  foresight,  for 
Tolu  is  only  distant  about  forty  miles  from  Cartagena, 
and  is  a  port  of  call.  Even  to-day  there  is  no  road 
between  the  two  ports  :  nothing  but  cattle-tracks  serve 
to  connect  them.  On  the  land  side  the  way  is 
arduous,  with  grass  and  water  scarce.  When  Alonso 
de  Heredia  heard  of  the  ten  thousand  castellanos 
that  Cesar  had  received  from  the  chief  Tolu,  he 
called  on  him  to  give  them  up. 

Cesar  had  already  shared  them  with  his  soldiers 
and  was  unable  to  comply.  For  this  Alonso  de 
Heredia  tried  him  by  court  martial  and  sentenced 
him  to  death.  His  life  was  spared,  for  not  a  soldier 
in  the  host  would  act  as  headsman,  and  so  Francisco 
Cesar,  the  future  conqueror  of  Antioquia,  and    far 

1  The   castellano,  according  to  Clemencin,  was   worth   eleven 
dollars  ("Compendio  Geografico  ") . 

5 


66  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  finest  of  the  conquerors  of  Tierra  Firme,  after 
Balboa,  was  forced  to  march  with  the  expedition  as  a 
prisoner  in  chains. 

Alonso  de  Heredia,  after  he  left  Tolu,  must  have 
marched  right  through  the  middle  of  the  famous 
Llanos  de  Corozal,  for  he  was  striking  at  a  venture 
towards  the  territory  of  a  chief  called  Ayapel.  This 
worthy  also  has  given  his  name  to  the  whole  district. 
Castellanos  says  the  Spaniards  journeyed  "  a  la 
ventura,"  for  they  had  lost  their  guides,  who  had  been 
killed  in  the  attack  upon  a  village.  As  the  country 
in  the  Llanos  de  Corozal  is  cut  by  frequent  patches 
of  dense  forest,  that  in  those  days  must  have  been 
denser  still  if  possible,  and  here  and  there  has  stony 
hills  of  not  inconsiderable  height,  but  rough  and 
very  bad  for  unshod  horses  on  account  of  beds  of 
gravel,  their  progress  must  have  been  both  perilous 
and  slow. 

However,  nothing  ever  daunted  the  conquistadores, 
and  in  such  circumstances  the  men  described  by  Padre 
Simon  under  the  name  of  M  baquianos  "l  must  have 
been  the  salvation  of  the  expedition  in  its  worst  diffi- 
culties. "  The  baquianos  are  those  whose  counsel  is 
valuable  (on  such  occasions).  They  find  the  way 
.  .  .  they  watch  and  never  sleep.  They  suffer  heat 
and  cold  and  thirst  and  hunger  .  .  .  they  go  in  front 
and  discover  ambuscades.  They  find  and  know  such 
fruits  as  can  be  eaten.  ...  It  is  they  who  make 
arms  fit  for  the  country,  as  bucklers,  lances,  and  even 

1  The  word  "  baquiano  "  is  still  used  all  over  Spanish  America 
in  the  sense  of  guide.     In  those  days  it  more  nearly  equalled  scout. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  67 

alpargates1  for  the  troops.  Accustomed  as  they  are 
to  savage  warfare,  neither  the  shouts,  the  drums,  nor 
the  screaming  of  the  war-whistles  affright  them  in 
an  Indian  attack.  They  do  not  feel  the  climate  and 
are  not  subject  to  the  boils  and  blains  and  the  attacks 
of  fever  that  afflict  the  bisonos  and  the  chapetones, 
who,  though  they  are  brave  fighters,  are  soon 
discouraged."  Padre  Simon  probably  meant  soon 
discouraged  by  the  rigours  of  a  campaign  in  such  a 
country  and  in  so  severe  a  climate  as  tropical 
Colombia. 

The  chief  Ayapel  was  prepared  for  the  coming  of 
the  Spaniards,  for  he  knew  what  to  expect  of  them. 
As  they  marched  on,  the  soldiers  in  bad  humour,  for 
they  expected  that  they  would  have  found  more 
Indian  graves  to  open,  they  entered  into  a  great  cane- 
brake,  extending  several  miles.  Fortunately  for  them 
some  of  the  baquianos  who  had  gone  forward  on  their 
horses  descried  the  points  of  Indian  lances  appearing 
high  above  the  canes.  They  just  had  time  to  gallop 
back  and  give  the  alarm  when  the  Indians,  seeing 
their  ambush  was  discovered,  charged  with  the  yells 
and  blowing  of  their  war- whistles  that  gave  the  name 
"  guazabara  "  to  a  similar  attack. 

Of  course  their  efforts  were  in  vain  against  the 
well-armed  Spaniards,  whose  cavalry  gave  them  a  great 
advantage  in  all  such  Indian  fights.  They  took  some 
prisoners,  who  are  described  as  "  tall  and  handsome 
men."  These  prisoners  told  them  that  the  town  ot 
Ayapel  was  quite  deserted  and  that  the  chief  had  hidden 

1  In  Spain  the  alpargata  is  a  canvas  shoe  with  hemp  soles.     In 
America  it  was  of  hide. 


68  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

all  his  gold.  However,  the  expedition  found  abundance 
of  provisions.  The  thirst  for  gold  still  spurred  them 
on,  and  as  the  Indians  told  them  that  none  was  to  be 
found  in  the  territory  of  Finzenu,  and  all  the  golden 
ornaments  they  had  taken  from  the  graves  had  been 
obtained  from  a  land  of  high  mountains,  rarther  to 
the  west,  they  set  their  faces  once  more  towards  the 
wilderness.  In  reading  of  their  doings  in  Sinu,  it 
seems  strange  that  the  Indians  never  raised  a  protest 
against  the  violation  of  the  sepulchres.  This  has 
inclined  some  writers  to  hazard  a  conjecture  that  the 
graves  were  of  a  race  superior  in  civilization  to  the 
dwellers  in  Sinu,  and  that  that  race  had  disappeared. 
It  may  have  been  so,  but  on  the  other  hand,  the 
Bachiller  Enciso  speaks  ot  the  Indians  working  in 
silver  and  gilding  it  with  herbs.  Gomara  also  talks 
of  the  Indians'  silverwork1  and  says  "they  cast  the 
metal  and  also  parcel-gild  it  with  certain  herbs 
they  use." 

Heredia  still  pushed  on,  although  his  soldiers 
got  more  discontented  day  by  day  and  difficulties 
increased.  At  last  they  reached  a  river,  too  wide  and 
deep  to  cross.  This  was  the  River  Cauca,  that  falls 
into  the  Magdalena,just  above  Magangue.  For  days 
they  had  been  without  provisions,  except  some  bales 
of  dried  fish  they  found  in  a  deserted  Indian  town. 
In  no  part  of  the  Americas,  except  upon  the  prairies 
of  the  north,  was  game  abundant,  as  it  was  in  Africa, 
and  so  the  expedition  had  to  maintain  itself  with  such 
wild  fruits  as  they  chanced  to  come  across,  and  tops 
of  palm-trees,  cut  down  and  roasted  in  the  fire. 
1  u  Gentil  plateria  de  Indios." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  69 

They  must  have  looked  a  veritable  company  or 
death  as  they  straggled  onwards,  fainting  from  hunger, 
thin,  and  travel-worn.  In  reading  of  these  expeditions 
of  the  conquerors  of  America,  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten 
that  they  did  not  know  where  they  were  going  to,  and 
thus  their  journeys  had  an  element  of  mystery  in 
them  unattainable  to-day.  Even  in  voyages  to  the 
South  Pole  the  explorers  know  that  their  goal  lies  in 
such  or  such  a  latitude ;  and,  in  the  case  of  Africa,  they 
are  but  filling  up  the  waste  spaces  of  a  map,  whose 
outlines  are  well  known.  No  matter  what  the  motives 
were  that  inspired  the  Spaniards  of  those  days,  whether 
the  thirst  for  gold,  a  desire  to  spread  their  faith,  or 
perhaps  a  mixture  of  the  two,  no  one  can  cavil  at 
their  courage  or  their  persistence  in  the  face  of 
difficulties. 

Marching  along  the  unknown  river's  banks,  they 
came  at  last  in  front  of  a  large  island  on  which  they 
saw  a  town.  Starving,  and  without  boats  or  canoes 
to  cross  the  stream,  the  famished  men  plunged  into 
the  water  and  swam  over  to  the  place.  Those  who 
have  seen  the  River  Cauca,  with  its  immense  and 
turbid  flood,  its  shallows  full  of  alligators,  electric  eels, 
and  stinging  ray-fish,  its  waters  full  of  ravenous 
caribes,1  always  ready  to  attack  the  swimmer,  can  but 
be  astonished  at  the  feat.  What  was  their  horror  as 
they  struggled  to  the  bank  to  see  the  town  burst  into 
flames  and  the  inhabitants  make  orT  in  their  canoes ! 
Nothing  remained  for  those  who  had  crossed  the 
stream,  but  to  come  back  again  as  famished  as  when 

1  The  carib£  is  a  small  ravenous  fish  about  the  size  of  a  sprat. 
It  goes  in  shoals. 


70  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

they  set  out  on  their  swim,  for  the  inhabitants  of  the 
burnt  town  had  carried  off  all  food.  Even  the  iron 
will  of  Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  was  forced  to  yield  to 
circumstances.  He  gave  the  order  sadly  to  retrace 
their  steps  to  Cartagena.  By  this  time  the  discontent 
of  the  soldiery  had  risen  to  a  pitch. 

After  seven  or  eight  days  ot  hunger  and  of 
continual  fighting,  Don  Alonso  de  Heredia  arrived  at 
Ayapel,  having  lost  a  third  of  the  expedition  by  the 
way.  There  he  met  Captain  Caceres,  sent  by  his 
brother  Don  Pedro  to  his  assistance.  Unfortunately 
Caceres  arrived  without  provisions,  so  that  all  he 
did  was  to  add  to  the  misery  of  the  rest.  Don  Pedro 
de  Heredia,  seeing  neither  his  brother  nor  his  captain 
had  returned  to  Cartagena,  came  out  himself  to  aid  and 
rescue  them.  He  arrived  in  time,  for  the  soldiers,  so 
he  says,  looked  like  a  troop  of  living  skeletons.  As 
he  had  only  just  provisions  for  his  men,  his  brother's 
expedition  had  to  return  towards  Tolu.  The  Indians, 
seeing  no  other  method  of  defence,  had  swept  the 
lands  of  the  Sinu  quite  bare  of  everything. 

A  serious  mutiny  broke  out,  but  for  a  curious 
reason,  the  soldiers  did  not  wish  to  leave  the  lands  of  the 
Sinii  with  empty  hands  after  their  sufferings.  Weak 
and  emaciated  as  they  were,  and  threatened  with 
starvation,  they  yet  petitioned  to  remain  and  open 
graves  to  see  if  they  could  find  gold.  Heredia 
pacified  them  as  best  he  could,  and  probably  allowed 
such  of  them  as  were  most  unreasonable  to  remain 
where  they  were.  A  detachment,  headed  by  Captain 
Caceres,  embarked  in  rafts,  hoping  to  get  to  Cartagena 
before  Heredia  could  arrive,  and  overturn  his  govern- 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  71 

merit.  Heredia,  hearing  of  their  project,  immediately 
descended  the  Sinii  in  a  canoe,  and  arrived  two  weeks 
before  them  at  the  town. 

In  all  the  histories  of  revolts  in  Mexico,  in  Chile, 
in  Colombia,  or  Peru,  at  the  time  of  the  conquests,  the 
mutineers  never  seem  to  have  attempted  to  separate 
from  Spain.  All  their  endeavours,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  the  revolt  of  Hernandez  de  Giron  in 
Peru,  were  against  their  governors.  If  the  revolt 
succeeded,  the  triumphant  general  either  went  home 
to  Spain  or  sent  a  confidential  agent  to  the  King, 
asking  to  be  confirmed  in  the  post  that  he  had  won. 
Spain  was  so  far  away,  communications  were  so  slow, 
and  the  Kings  usually  were  so  ill  advised,  that  the 
request  of  the  triumphant  rebel  was  always  granted. 
Thus  did  things  move  in  an  entirely  vicious  circle, 
and  the  King  in  a  way  was  a  participator  in  a  plot 
against  his  own  authority.  Once  only,  in  a  matter  of 
this  kind,  did  a  King  of  Spain  behave  with  energy. 
This  happened  in  the  wars  with  the  Pizarros,  when 
the  Licenciado  de  la  Gasca  was  sent  out  to  Peru  to 
restore  order  and  put  the  outbreak  down.  This  he 
accomplished,  though  a  churchman,  and  though  he 
landed  in  Peru  without  a  soldier  at  his  back.  All 
that  he  did  he  accomplished  in  the  King's  name  by 
proclamation,  and  certainly  he  gave  evidence  of  a 
strong  will  and  great  diplomatic  power.  As  often 
happens  with  a  man  of  peace,  invested  suddenly  with 
military  power,  he  stained  his  victory  by  his  severity 
when  he  obtained  the  upper  hand. 

Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  found  himself  in  a  difficult 
position  in  Cartagena,  even  though  he  had  got  there 


72  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

before  his  enemies  and  had  upset  their  plans.  His 
wealth  was  stored  in  the  island  of  Codego,  in 
Cartagena  Bay,  and,  a  revolt  having  occurred,  he 
sailed  there  with  his  immediate  followers  and  his 
slaves.  Once  there  in  safety,  he  was  not  the  man  to 
sit  down  quietly  under  such  a  serious  affront.  His 
prestige  with  the  conquered  Indians  stood  high.  It 
is  a  curious  fact  that  the  same  happened  to  Cortes 
and  with  the  two  Pizarros  in  Peru.  Whenever  a 
revolt  broke  out  against  either  of  them,  their  staunchest 
friends  were  always  to  be  found  amongst  those  very 
Indians  who  only  a  year  or  so  before  had  been 
defeated  by  the  leaders,  to  whom  they  rallied  to 
assist. 

Cartagena  was  in  no  position  to  resist  such  a  force 
as  Heredia  disposed  of,  and  so  they  sent  a  deputation, 
iust  as  the  Romans  sent  to  Coriolanus,  begging 
Heredia  to  spare  them  and  the  town.  He,  of  course, 
spared  them,  after  the  fashion  of  most  men  in  similar 
position,  but  the  fright  they  had  sustained  was  little 
calculated  to  make  him  popular.  Discontent,  deeply 
seated,  bided  its  time  against  him.  He  was  well 
aware  of  it,  and  understood  if  he  could  not  go  on 
leading  his  soldiers  to  victory  and  wealth,  that  he  was 
certain  to  be  lost.  So  he  detached  his  brother,  Don 
Alonso,  to  found  a  settlement  in  the  territory  of  the 
chief  Tolu.  He  himself,  always  energetic,  always 
keen,  both  for  adventure  and  for  gold,  set  out  upon  an 
expedition  to  the  province  of  Darien  to  seek  for  a 
supposititious  El  Dorado,  at  a  place  called  Dabaybe, 
which  was  a  sort  of  ignis  fatuus  to  all  the  conquerors 
of  Darien  and  Panama. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  73 

During  his  absence  his  brother,  Don  Alonso,  with 
a  well-equipped  expedition,  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
Sinu.  There  he  found  the  soldiers,  who  despite  ot 
hunger  and  disease  had  remained  to  open  Indian 
graves,  still  hard  at  work.  They  had  got  so  skilful 
at  the  work,  they  found  it  was  only  worth  their 
while  to  open  tumuli  on  the  left  side.  Upon  the 
right  side  no  gold  or  ornaments  were  ever  found. 
The  quantity  of  tumuli  was  so  enormous  that  opening 
them  remained  a  profitable  industry  for  many  years  to 
come. 

Don  Alonso,  after  providing  these  industrious 
ghouls  with  all  the  provisions  he  could  spare,  went  on 
till  he  came  to  the  River  Catarrapa,  which  he  followed 
to  its  mouth.  On  it  he  founded  Santiago  de  Tolu, 
the  oldest  settlement  in  the  department  of  Bolivar, 
after  Cartagena,  and  at  one  time  the  capital.  Here 
first  were  found  the  trees1  from  which  the  celebrated 
balsam  of  Tolu  is  taken,  a  medicine  that  still  keeps  its 
virtue  in  spite  of  fashion  and  of  time.  The  Indians, 
after  one  hostile  demonstration,  soon  submitted  to  his 
rule,  for  they  were  agriculturists,  and  had  not  that 
ferocious  spirit  of  independence  that  characterized 
most  of  the  wilder  tribes  throughout  America.  This 
spirit  has  survived  down  to  the  present  day.  A  priest, 
in  the  wild  regions  of  the  new  Santa  Cruz  de  la  Sierra, 
in  Bolivia,  only  a  year  or  two  ago,  took  prisoner  five 
Indians  in  a  sort  of  Gospel  raid. 

Being  agog  to  save  their  souls,  which  must  inevit- 
ably have  perished  had  they  remained  just  as  the 
Creator  of  the  world  called  them  into  being,  he  tied 

1  Myrospernum  toluiferum. 


74  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

his  captives  up  to  posts.  Then  he  expounded  to 
them  the  dogmas  of  our  faith,  wrestling  with  Lucifer 
to  snatch  the  wildings  from  his  claws.  All  was  in 
vain,  perhaps  because  he  strove  in  Spanish,  a  language 
which  they  unfortunately  had  never  learned.  For 
days  he  preached  and  prayed  without  success.  These 
infidels  were  so  hard-hearted  and  so  rooted  in  primeval 
villainy  that  they  refused  all  food.  Still  he  prayed  on, 
until  three  of  them  inconsiderately  died  upon  his 
hands.  The  other  two  he  then  let  loose,  and  they 
at  once  returned  into  the  woods,  to  lose  their  souls 
and  live. 


CHAPTER   VII 

Don  Alonso  de  Heredia  was  one  of  the  few 
conquerors  who  treated  the  Indians  with  humanity. 
Even  his  brother  Don  Pedro  was  not  cruel.  His 
chief  fault  was  his  love  of  wealth  ;  but  on  the  whole 
the  record  of  the  two  brothers  stands  high  in  the 
history  of  the  times. 

The  Indians  all  about  Tolu  were  the  most 
civilized  the  Spaniards  had  found  in  their  experience 
of  the  Sinu.  They  cultivated  crops  of  maize,  yams, 
and  manioc,  and  from  the  first  building  of  the  town, 
peace  seems  to  have  reigned  between  the  Spaniards 
and  themselves.  Certainly  they  have  left  their  traces 
in  the  population  of  the  district,  for  most  of  the  in- 
habitants show  a  strong  Indian  type. 

The  town  is  excellently  situated,  just  at  the  mouth 
of  the  River  Catarrapa,  and  vessels  of  a  moderate  size 
can  anchor  in  its  considerable  bay.  Outside,  the 
stormy  Caribbean  Sea,  usually  vexed  and  tossing, 
may  rage  its  worst.  Inside  the  point,  a  grove  of 
coco-palms  shuts  out  its  waves  and  noise.  A  long 
ramshackle  pier  runs  out  some  little  way,  and  when  the 
crank  dugout  canoe  has  put  ashore  its  passengers, 
they  stumble  landwards  on  the  crazy  structure  that 
seems  coeval  with  the  foundation  of  the  town. 

75 


< 


76  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Padre  Simon,  generally  an  accurate  observer,  says 
the  water  of  the  place  is  singularly  soft,  and  in  this 
statement  I  can  bear  him  out.  Perhaps  through  lack 
of  faith,  in  the  same  way  that  Bernal  Diaz  could  not 
see  Santiago,  but  in  the  battle  only  discerned  Francisco 
de  Morla  on  his  white  horse,  I  failed  to  find  the 
wondrous  springs  that  the  good  father  talks  about. 
"  Near  the  town  of  Tolu,"  he  says,  "  spring  two 
wondrous  fountains,  close  to  the  roots  of  a  great  tree, 
whose  leaves  on  falling  into  their  water  are  straight- 
way petrified.  This  spring  is  clear,  and  the  water 
flowing  from  it  pleasant  to  the  taste  of  those  who 
drink  of  it.  The  water  of  the  second  fountain  gushes 
out,  a  deep  blue  colour,  although  at  times  it  runs  as 
white  as  milk.  The  water,  like  that  of  the  twin 
spring,  is  very  good  to  drink."  These  portents,  and 
the  groups  of  balsam-bearing  trees,  constitute  the 
chief  wonders  of  Tolu. 

I  saw  the  trees.  My  want  of  faith  or  lack  of 
observation  may  have  come  in  between  me  and  the 
springs,  in  the  same  way  as  the  presence  of  a  mis- 
believer is  often  fatal  to  the  materialization  of  Dante 
or  of  Julius  Caesar  at  aspi ritualistic  seance  in  the 
dark.  I  found  the  strange  old  Spanish  town,  the 
white  sand,  the  surf-lashed  beach,  the  whispering 
coco-palms,  and  the  deep  blue  lagoon,  sufficiently 
mysterious. 

In  the  meantime  Don  Pedro  de  Heredia,  with  a 
well-equipped  expedition  of  more  than  two  hundred 
men  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  had  set  out  towards 
Darien  to  find  one  of  the  numerous  El  Dorados, 
that    always    danced    before   the  imagination  of  the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  77 

adventurers  of  those  days,  from  Raleigh  down  to  the 
meanest  captain  of  them  all.  Don  Pedro  embarked 
his  expedition  in  launches,  and  after  sailing  up  the 
River  Darien  he  disembarked  on  the  right  bank  and 
struck  into  the  woods. 

From  the  first,  bad  fortune  dogged  his  steps,  and 
the  adventure  was  the  most  unlucky  he  ever  under- 
took. The  country  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Darien 
River  has  changed  but  little  since  those  days.  Swamp 
succeeds  swamp,  and  inundated  forests,  almost  im- 
penetrable on  foot,  extend  on  every  side.  All  round 
the  Isthmus  of  Darien  to  the  south,  though  it  was  the 
first  part  of  America  to  be  occupied,  Nature  has 
proved  so  powerful  that  she  has  maintained  herself 
almost  without  a  change.  Only  in  the  zone  of  the 
Panama  Canal  has  she  been  bridled  and  subdued. 
Even  there,  were  but  the  hand  of  man  relaxed  a  year 
or  two,  all  would  fall  back  again. 

Heredia  committed  an  initial  error  in  taking 
horses  with  him  on  the  march.  As  they  had  been 
the  greatest  arm  the  Spaniards  had  against  the  Indians 
on  other  expeditions,  so  in  this  one  they  proved  the 
greatest  curse.  Lost  in  the  trackless,  inundated  forests, 
exposed  to  ceaseless  rains,  a  prey  to  every  kind  of 
insect,  and  to  vampire  bats  that  sucked  the  incautious 
sleeper's  blood,  fanning  him  gently  with  their  wings, 
so  that  he  did  not  wake,  until  the  morning  found 
him  weak  and  nerveless  with  the  loss  of  blood,  the 
luckless  Spaniards  struggled  through  the  woods. 
Sometimes  they  had  to  halt  a  week  to  build  a  bridge 
to  let  the  horses  pass  a  cano,1  and  in  the  black  and 
1  Backwater,  running  between  woods. 


78  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

viscid  marshes  men  had  to  haul  them  through  with 
ropes. 

Since  those  days,  most  probably,  no  horse  has  ever 
entered  into  those  dreadful  swamps,  and  possibly  will 
never  do  so  in  the  history  of  the  world.  The  best 
means  of  penetration  might  have  been  in  canoes,  for 
the  Spaniards  could  not  get  through  the  inundated 
bush  as  did  the  Indians. 

To  all  the  protests  of  Heredia  the  Indian  guides 
rejoined,  "  It  is  your  fault  and  of  your  animals.  We 
could  have  done  the  journey  from  the  coast  up  to  the 
hills  in  a  few  days."  This  probably  was  true,  for  the 
native  Indian  of  Darien  glides  through  the  bushes  like 
a  snake.  Silently  he  slips  through  the  woods  and 
leaves  no  trail  behind. 

After  three  months  of  fruitless  toil  and  suffering 
Heredia  gave  the  order  to  return.  As  the  road  that 
he  had  come  by  was  now  clear  to  some  extent  of 
wood,  the  journey  only  took  him  forty  days.  When 
he  got  back  to  San  Sebastian  de  Uraba,  from  whence 
he  started,  he  had  lost  all  his  horses  and  more  than 
half  of  all  his  men.  The  disastrous  expedition 
destroyed  his  popularity,  and  when  he  entered 
Cartagena  the  population  closed  their  doors  upon  him. 

Francisco  Cesar,  who  had  remained  in  inactivity, 
now  asked  Heredia's  leave  to  set  out  with  another 
expedition  to  find  the  El  Dorado  his  chief  had  failed 
to  reach.  Seven  months  he  wandered  in  the  wilds, 
failing  to  attain  the  El  Dorado  of  their  dreams,  but 
crossing  for  the  first  time  the  mountains  of  Abibe, 
which  for  the  past  twenty  years  had  been  impassable 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  79 

by  any  conqueror.  Thus  he  discovered,  though 
probably  without  his  knowledge,  what  is  now  the 
province  of  Antioquia,  one  of  the  richest  in  the 
republic  of  Colombia  to-day. 

Although  Francisco  Cesar  set  out  as  Heredia  had 
done,  from  San  Sebastian  de  Uraba,  he  followed 
quite  a  different  road.  Instead  of  involving  himself 
amidst  the  forests  and  the  swamps,  he  struck  directly 
for  the  hills.  Though  by  this  choice  of  road  he 
certainly  avoided  all  the  difficulties  that  had  beset 
Heredia,  he  encountered  others  almost  as  formidable. 
So  great  were  the  obstacles  he  had  to  face,  and  so 
hard  did  the  Indians  fight  against  him,  that  when  at 
last  he  emerged  into  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Cauca  he 
had  lost  a  third  part  of  his  horses  and  his  men.  The 
valley  of  the  Cauca  is  renowned  in  South  America 
both  for  its  beauty  and  fertility.  Although  at  the 
time  that  he  first  penetrated  to  it,  crossing  the 
mountains  that  for  twenty  years  had  baffled  all 
explorers,  he  probably  but  little  estimated  all  its 
worth ;  to  him  belongs  the  honour  of  the  discovery. 
No  record  of  his  name,  as  far  as  I  know,  is  preserved 
in  any  place  in  Antioquia. 

The  most  warlike  of  any  or  the  Indian  chiefs 
encountered  since  the  foundation  of  Cartagena  fought 
vigorously  with  Cesar  in  the  Cauca  territory.  This 
chief,  called  Nutibara,  fell  upon  the  little  Spanish 
force,  now  reduced  to  about  sixty  men  and  ten  or 
eleven  horses,  with  two  thousand  of  his  followers. 
Never  before  had  Cesar  been  in  such  peril  of  his  life 
as  in  the  battle  that  ensued.     As  usual  in  the  New 


80  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

World,  the  horses  gained  them  the  victory.1  Seeing 
that  Nutibara's  brother  was  the  most  active  in 
rallying  the  foe,  Cesar  spurred  through  the  Indians, 
and  after  a  keen  fight  despatched  him.  With  his 
death  the  Indians  became  disheartened  and  retired. 
The  chief  Nutibara,  like  a  good  general,  covered  his 
followers'  retreat,  carrying  off  his  brother's  body  in  a 
hamac,  and  marching  by  its  side.  The  Spaniards 
watched  the  sad,  little  procession  winding  through  the 
woods  till  it  was  lost  to  sight.  Not  till  it  disappeared 
did  they  perceive  that  they  had  gained  the  day.  As 
always  happened  in  all  battles  when  the  Spaniards 
were  hard  pressed  by  the  enemy,  Santiago,  mounted 
on  his  white  horse,  appeared  to  cheer  them  on.  All 
things  are  possible  to  the  interior  vision,  and,  from  the 
days  of  Constantine  down  to  more  recent  times  when 
angels  fluttered  in  the  sky  over  a  host  of  Protestants, 
portents  and  signs  have  appeared  to  those  who  looked 
for  them — upon  the  winning  side. 

After  his  victory,  Cesar  collected  all  the  gold  he 
could  and  then  returned  to  Cartagena  with  all  speed. 
In  the  seven  months  that  he  had  been  away  much 
had  occurred  at  Cartagena.  The  unpopularity  of  the 
Heredias  had  grown  with  the  ill  success  of  their  two 
last  expeditions,  and  at  the  request  of  the  inhabitants 
an  officer  had  been  sent  from  Spain  to  look  into 
affairs.  This  man  having  died  upon  the  journey  in 
the  island  of  Hispaniola,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 

1  Piedrahita  says  :  "  Son  los  caballos  los  nervios  de  la  guerra  con 
los  naturales."  The  word  "  natural "  would  seem  to  be  the  original 
of  our  word  "  native,"  the  use  of  which  endears  us  so  much  to  our 
coloured  brethren  in  the  Lord. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  81 

island — known  as  La  Audiencia — commissioned  one 
of  its  chief  members,  Pedro  Vadillo,  to  go  to 
Cartagena  and  institute  what  in  the  Spanish  law  of 
those  days  was  called  a  **  residencia  "  against  Heredia. 

The  residencia  was  a  general  inquiry  into  the 
administration  and  affairs  of  a  colonial  governor  under 
the  laws  of  Spain.  When  in  the  colony  abuses  got 
too  flagrant  to  be  borne,  an  officer  entitled  either 
an  "  Oidor  M1  or  a  "  Visitador  "  was  sent  out,  with  full 
powers  to  sift  and  to  examine,  and,  if  need  be,  to  send 
the  erring  governor  home.  Naturally  such  powers 
led  to  great  abuses  when  vested  in  dishonest  officers. 
The  first  act  of  the  taker  of  the  residencia  was 
always  to  confiscate  the  money  of  the  governor  under 
pretence  of  sending  it  back  to  the  Treasury.  As 
a  general  rule,  the  money  never  reached  the  govern- 
ment, but  enriched  the  taker  of  the  residencia  for 
life.  There  were  exceptions,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Licenciado  de  la  Gasca  in  Peru,  but  few  and  far 
between.  The  Oidor  Vadillo  was  an  ambitious  man, 
active  and  energetic,  and  not  withheld  by  any  scruples ; 
so  he  at  once  threw  Pedro  and  Alonso  de  Heredia 
into  prison,  tortured  their  slaves  till  they  confessed 
where  the  Heredias  had  concealed  their  money, 
confiscated  it,  and,  not  content  with  that,  sent  to  the 
interior,  and  having  seized  upon  some  Indian  chiefs, 
extracted  a  large  sum  from  them  in  gold.  This  he 
sold  in  Hispaniola,  and,  after  having  taken  on  himself 
the  power  and  functions  of  the  governor,  began  to 
oppress  and  to  illtreat  the  Indians. 

The  Heredias   were  confined   in  a  damp   prison 

1  Oidor  =  hearer. 

6 


82  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

underneath  the  level  of  the  sea.  Most  probably 
the  place  where  they  were  confined  was  an  old 
building  called  "  Las  Bovedas,"  a  noisome  den,  hot, 
damp,  and  situated  on  the  beach.  In  it  many  of  the 
best  and  finest  patriots  of  Colombia  have  languished 
out  their  lives.  Alonso  de  Heredia  emerged  from 
it  crippled  for  life  with  rheumatism,  for  few  resist  it 
long. 

Just  at  this  moment  Francisco  Cesar  disembarked 
on  his  return  from  his  long  expedition,  rich  and 
acclaimed  by  all.  Although  his  vessel  anchored  in 
the  bay  at  midnight,  he  went  at  once  to  see  his 
former  chiefs,  an  action  that  does  credit  to  the 
goodness  of  his  heart,  as  both  had  treated  him  unjustly, 
and  Don  Alonso  had  loaded  him  with  chains.  One 
cannot  but  admire  his  magnanimity,  on  reading  that 
he  endeavoured  to  console  Don  Pedro  with  kind 
words,  insisted  that  his  chains  should  be  knocked  off, 
and,  more  than  that,  gave  him  half  the  gold  that 
he  had  brought  from  the  interior,  well  understanding 
that  a  man  who  has  to  plead  before  the  courts  in 
Spain  pleads  better  if  his  purse  is  weighty  and  well 
filled.1 

Certainly  Cesar,  who  had  been  deeply  wronged 
by  both  Heredias,  showed  that  he  was  a  man  of 
magnanimity  of  character,  and  rose  superior  to 
revenge  and  jealousy,  recognizing  that  his  old 
chief,  with  all  his  faults,  did  not  deserve  the  treat- 
ment meted  out  to  him  by  the  base,  money-loving 
Oidor. 

1  The  same,  of  course,  applies  to  Japan,  China,  England,  the 
United  States,  France,  and  the  republic  of  Haiti. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  83 

The  interesting  career  of  Francisco  Cesar  was 
now  drawing  to  a  close.  Unable  to  remain  in  ease  at 
Cartagena,  he  commanded  another  expedition  to  the 
interior,  under  the  Oidor  Vadillo,  and  after  number 
less  adventures  died  exhausted  by  his  toils  in  a  little 
Indian  town  called  Cori,  not  far  from  the  great  river 
that  still  bears  his  name.  Had  he  but  had  a  wider 
theatre  he  would  have  equalled  either  Pizarro  or 
Cortes.  As  it  is,  his  character  stands  high  amongst 
the  ranks  of  the  conquerors  of  the  New  World,  both 
for  his  military  skill,  his  courage,  and  above  all,  for 
magnanimity.  On  no  occasion  did  he  treat  the 
conquered  Indians  with  injustice,  still  less  with 
cruelty.  Such  men  were  all  too  rare  in  those  days 
amongst  the  Spaniards,  though  there  were  many 
honourable  exceptions,  a  thing  often  forgotten  by 
English  historians,  who  seem  to  think  all  conquerors 
but  our  own,  were  steeped  in  villainy.  Curiously 
enough,  the  name  of  Cesar  has  been  remembered  in 
Colombia,  only  in  a  false  quantity,  repugnant  to  all 
ears  attuned  to  Spanish  prosody  and  sound.  The 
river  on  whose  banks  he  died  still  bears  his  name, 
distorted,  and  figures  as  "  Cesar." *  The  country  round 
the  river  is  still  some  of  the  wildest  in  Colombia,  and 
tribes  yet  roam  the  woods  upon  its  banks,  half-naked, 
carrying  bows  and  poisoned  arrows.  Some  say  that 
they  are  cannibals. 

Francisco  Cesar's  grave  is,  I  believe,  unknown;  but 
probably  his  soldiers  buried  him  under  some  spreading 
bongo  or  ceiba,  stamping  the  earth  down  hard  and 

1  Instead  of  C£sar.    This  is  as  if  one  were  to  pronounce  London, 
Lond6n. 


84  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

watering  it  well.  Then  perhaps  they  rode  their 
horses  backwards  and  forwards  over  it,  so  that  the 
Indians  should  never  find  the  place.  This  his 
followers  did  in  the  case  of  Hernando  de  Soto;1  but 
even  then  they  were  in  doubt,  and  took  his  body  up, 
and  after  placing  it  in  a  great  hollow  log  they  sunk  it 
in  the  Mississippi  that  he  was  the  first  to  navigate.  A 
fitting  grave  for  an  explorer,  either  to  lie  beneath  an 
unmarked  ceiba,  with  its  long  bunches  of  purple 
flowers,  or  in  a  hollow  log  sunk  in  an  unnavigated 
stream.  Soto  and  Francisco  Cesar  must,  one  would 
think,  sleep  better  where  they  lie,  than  under  marble 
in  the  damp-smelling  side  aisle  of  a  church. 

1  The  discoverer  of  the  Mississippi. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

In  i 54 i,  probably  with  the  assistance  of  the  money 
so  generously  given  him  by  Francisco  Cesar,  Heredia 
was  restored  to  favour  at  the  Court  of  Spain  and 
declared  innocent  of  the  charges  brought  against  him 
in  his  government.  So  well  had  he  succeeded  in  re- 
establishing his  reputation  that  he  once  more  returned 
to  Cartagena,  as  the  governor,  with  all  his  previous 
titles  and  powers  confirmed.  The  inhabitants  re- 
ceived him  joyfully,  and  it  must  have  been  a  proud 
day  for  him  to  return  absolved  and  once  more  the 
governor  of  the  city  that  he  had  founded  and  seen 
grow. 

He  found  plenty  to  his  hand  to  do,  at  once,  for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  town  of  Mompox  upon  the 
Magdalena,  founded  by  his  brother,  Don  Alonso,  had 
rebelled  against  their  governor.  Don  Pedro  fell  upon 
them  like  a  thunderbolt,  hanged  some  of  the  chief 
rebels,  and  restored  order  in  the  energetic  way  that 
long  campaigns  against  the  Indians  had  taught  him 
thoroughly.  The  leader  of  the  movement,  one 
Zapata,  fled  to  the  woods,  and,  though  they  searched 
for  him  for  months,  eluded  their  pursuit.  Most  prob- 
ably he  perished  miserably,  for  in  the  woods  around 
Mompox,  even  to-day,  he  who  gets  lost  is  a  dead  man. 

85 


86  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Had  but  Heredia  remained  in  Cartagena  and  attended 
to  his  government,  all  would  have  gone  well  with 
him.  In  spite  of  bickerings,  certain  to  arise  in 
a  new-founded  colony,  the  inhabitants  respected 
and  were  proud  of  him.  They  had  seen  him,  from 
the  first  foundation  of  the  town,  always  alert  and 
energetic,  ever  helpful,  large-handed,  and  to  no  small 
degree  large-minded,  despite  the  love  of  gain  that 
marred  his  character.  Of  his  tried  valour  and  his 
military  skill  there  was  no  doubt  in  anybody's  mind, 
and  the  fact  that  he  had  returned  from  Spain  vic- 
torious over  all  his  enemies  gave  him  increased 
renown. 

However,  as  the  Spanish  adage  has  it,  "  a 
man's  face  and  character  go  with  him  to  the 
grave."1 

Heredia  was  an  example  of  the  truth  of  it.  The 
supposititious  mines  of  El  Dabaibe  were,  as  a 
Colombian  writer  says,  the  El  Dorado  of  the  province 
of  Cartagena,*  as  Manoa3  was  the  El  Dorado  of  the 
interior.  Heredia's  first  action,  after  the  revolt  was 
quelled,  was  to  prepare  another  expedition  to  the 
same  fatal  place.  No  governor  of  those  who  were  in 
power  at  the  time  of  the  conquest  ever  would 
consent  to  remain  quietly  in  his  government. 
Perhaps  the  exigencies  of  their  position  drove  them 
onward,  or  popularity  was  only  to  be  kept  at  the  price 
of   fresh    conquests    and   of    activity.     Perhaps   the 

1  "  Genio  y  figura,  hasta  la  sepultura." 

2  Now  el  departamento  de  Bolivar. 

8  Manoa  was  the  fabled  city  that  led  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  to  his 
ruin  and  death. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  87 

adventures  they  had  already  undergone  made  life 
seem  valueless  without  excitement  and  without  diffi- 
cuities  to  overcome.  Certain  it  is  that  all  of  them,  to 
the  last  moment  of  their  lives,  dreamed  of  fresh 
conquests  and  new  kingdoms  to  subdue.  Cortes,  past 
middle  age,1  engaged  in  the  disastrous  voyage  to  Cali- 
fornia, suffering  and  undergoing  hardships  that  might 
have  overwhelmed  a  younger  man,  with  equanimity. 
Pedrarias  Davila,  the  celebrated  governor  of  Panama, 
only  took  up  his  government  in  his  old  age,  and 
never  rested  for  an  instant  till  he  returned  to  Spain. 

Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  was  of  the  same  breed  of 
man.  When  he  set  out  upon  his  second  expedition 
to  Dabaibe,  he  must  have  been  sixty  years  of  age, 
yet  he  set  out  as  full  of  hope  as  if  he  had  been 
young.  Hardly  had  he  begun  to  navigate  the  River 
Atrato  in  canoes  than  he  fell  into  difficulties. 
Incessant  rains  had  swollen  the  stream.  The  Indians 
harassed  him,  pouring  in  flights  of  poisoned  arrows ; 
and,  last  of  all,  his  men  were  all  attacked  by  fevers, 
and  he  lost  many  of  them.  The  journey  lasted 
several  months,  and  once  again,  after  his  son  had  been 
severely  wounded,  he  was  forced  to  return  to  San 
Sebastian  de  Uraba. 

When  he  arrived  there  he  had  to  deal  with  one 
Robledo  who  in  his  absence  had  usurped  his  govern- 
ment. The  rebellion  settled  and  Robledo  sent  back 
to  Spain  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  courts,  instead  of 

1  Age  never  counted  with  the  conquerors,  and  all  of  them  died 
young  in  spirit  and  most  of  them  active  in  body  to  the  last.  Witness 
Francisco  de  Pizarro,  who,  long  past  seventy,  killed  with  his  own 
hand  three  of  the  assassins  who  came  to  murder  him. 


88  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

returning  straight  to  Cartagena,  as  he  should  have 
done,  he  set  out  for  Antioquia.  His  men,  after  so 
long  a  period  in  the  hottest  of  the  tropics,  suffered 
severely  from  the  cold  in  the  high  mountains  thai  lie 
between  the  provinces.  Heredia  himself  seems  to 
have  been  impervious  to  both  heat  and  cold,  to 
hunger,  fevers,  and  to  most  of  all  the  ills  the  flesh  is 
heir  to  in  countries  such  as  Colombia,  where  climates 
vary  from  the  greatest  heat  to  the  severest  cold,  after 
a  few  days*  march. 

When  he  arrived  at  length  in  Antioquia,  after  a 
month's  journey,  most  of  his  men  were  ill.  Troubles 
were  always  waiting  for  him,  for  he  found  the  settlers 
hostile  to  him  and  partisans  of  the  celebrated 
Sebastian  de  Belalcazar,  whose  government  overlapped 
his  own.  Want  of  communications,  the  length  of 
voyages,  and  the  absence  of  good  maps,  contributed 
at  the  time  of  the  conquest,  and  for  long  afterwards, 
to  these  overlapping  governments.  The  territories 
were  immense  ;  and,  wThen  the  different  conquerors 
arrived  in  Spain  to  solicit  confirmation  of  their  rule 
in  the  region  they  had  won,  the  Crown  of  Spain 
seems  to  have  granted  many  of  their  claims  without 
inquiring  whether  they  were  contested  by  some  other 
governor. 

In  this  particular  instance  neither  Heredia  nor 
Belalcazar  seems  to  have  acted  in  bad  faith.  Heredia 
had  come  up  from  Darien  and  Belalcazar  from  Peru. 
Probably  neither  of  them  knew  the  other  claimed  the 
government  of  Antioquia  till  their  respective  forces 
met.  Heredia  had  sent  out  the  greater  portion  of  his 
men  to  explore  the  country,  remaining  himself  in  the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  89 

camp  with  all  the  invalids.  A  captain,  one  Don 
Juan  Cabrera,  whom  Belalcazar  had  sent  on  with  a 
strong  force  to  occupy  what  he  considered  was  his 
government,  hearing  of  Heredia's  position,  surprised 
his  camp  and  took  him  prisoner. 

Not  content  with  this,  he  let  his  soldiers  plunder 
the  camp  and  appropriate  the  horses,  clothes,  and  arms 
and  illtreat  everybody.  Heredia  himself  he  sent  under 
a  guard  to  Popayan,1  which  was  the  seat  of  Belalcazar's 
government.  As  the  Court  of  Appeal  (Real 
Audiencia)  had  been  established  in  Panama  for  the 
last  three  years,  Belalcazar  sent  Heredia  there  to 
justify  himself.  What  happened  is  not  recorded ;  but 
in  a  short  time  Heredia  was  at  liberty  again,  as  full  of 
fight  as  ever.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  in  Cartagena  he 
set  to  work  to  fit  out  another  expedition  for  Antioquia, 
for  he  still  maintained  it  fell  under  his  government. 
Most  probably  he  had  already  heard  of  the  great 
mineral  wealth  of  Antioquia,  and  knew  the  Indian 
graves  in  the  Sinii  were  all  worked  out  and  no  hopes 
of  a  speedy  fortune  to  be  expected  from  them. 

In  1544  "certain  French  corsairs,"2  under  the 
command  of  one  Roberto  Baal  (surely  an  ominous 
name),  after  sacking  Santa  Marta,  appeared  off 
Cartagena,  where,  as  Spain  and  France  were  not  at 

1  Popayan  is  an  old-fashioned  town  in  the  Andes,  very  full  of 
churches  and  convents.  Many  of  the  best  families  of  Colombia 
come  from  there.  It  is  a  remote  place,  and  is  only  accessible  on 
mule-back  from  Bogota,  a  journey  of  ten  days — provided  there  is  no 
"  novelty  "  (as  the  Spaniards  say)  on  the  journey.  Novelty  may  take 
many  forms,  as  floods,  deep  mud,  landslips,  or  Indian  attacks.  Popayan 
has  given  rise  to  the  excellent  Colombian  adage,  "  Todo  el  mundo 
es  Popayan  " — i.e.y  "  All  the  world  is  Popayan  — that  is,  the  same. 
2  "  Ciertos  corsarios  franceses." 


90  CARTAGENA  DE  1NDIAS 

war,  nothing  was  known  of  what  happened  to  the 
other  town.  The  pirates,  having  landed  at  midnight, 
by  daybreak  were  masters  of  the  place.  Don  Antonio 
de  Heredia,  the  governor's  son,  was  wounded,  and  the 
bishop  taken  prisoner.  After  having  sacked  the  town 
the  corsairs  still  demanded  ransom  from  the  inhabitants 
who  had  not  fled  into  the  woods.  To  avoid  more 
outrages  and  violence  Don  Pedro  de  Heredia  came 
forward  and  sacrificed  his  entire  fortune  and  all  the 
treasure  taken  from  the  Indian  graves.  The  pirates 
then  made  off,  leaving  Heredia  totally  ruined,  after  so 
many  years  of  struggle,  but  as  a  recompense — one  that 
no  doubt  a  man  of  such  tried  valour  and  of  so  much 
public  spirit  could  well  appreciate — firmly  enshrined, 
both  as  a  hero  and  a  benefactor,  in  the  minds  of 
everyone. 

By  a  strange  freak  of  fortune,  this  maladventure 
fell  upon  him  on  the  day  his  daughter  was  to  have 
married  Captain  Mosquera,  one  of  the  principal 
inhabitants.  Even  these  blows  of  fortune  did  not 
damp  his  spirit,  and  he  went  on  with  preparations  for 
a  new  venture  into  Antioquia  to  reassert  his  govern- 
ment. When  he  arrived  there  he  found  the 
inhabitants  divided  into  two  parties  of  about  equal 
strength.  His  own  adherents  took  the  name  of 
Carthagenians,  and  those  of  Belalcazar,  the  Peruvians. 

After  some  months  of  political  intrigue,  diversified 
by  an  occasional  appeal  to  arms,  Heredia  saw  that 
nothing  was  to  be  made  of  the  affair.  Yielding  for 
once  to  prudence,  he  returned  to  Cartagena,  only  to 
find  himself  confronted  with  another  difficulty.  For 
some  time  past  the  Emperor,  Charles  V.,  had   been 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  91 

disturbed  by  the  reports  presented  to  him  by  the  great 
Las  Casas  and  many  other  priests  and  bishops,  as  to 
the  treatment  of  the  Indians  in  America.  At  last  he 
had  drawn  up  by  the  great  Council  of  the  Realm  the 
celebrated  code  of  laws  known  as  "  The  Laws  of  the 
Indies,"  confirming  all  the  wise  ordinances  of  his 
grandmother,  Isabel  the  Catholic,  calling  upon  the 
colonists  to  treat  the  Indians  well,  not  to  make  slaves 
of  them,  and  to  convert  them  to  the  Catholic  faith. 
This  code  of  laws  would  have  been  the  charter  of 
freedom  of  the  Indians  had  they  been  justly  carried 
out.  It  is  not  difficult  to  divine  how  they  were 
welcomed  by  the  colonists,  accustomed  to  treat  all 
Indians  as  slaves.1  In  most  places  the  laws  were 
received  with  derision  and  treated  as  a  dead  letter. 
In  others  a  sham  obedience  was  given,  and  from  that 
time  the  celebrated  phrase,  "  I  obey,  but  I  do  not 
comply "  *  became  the  watchword  of  colonial 
governors.  For  all  that,  the  Laws  of  the  Indies  had 
a  good  effect,  and  now  and  then  served  to  repress 
flagrant  injustices.  The  code  itself  was  liberal  and 
far-seeing,  and  much  the  most  humane  of  any  system 
of  colonial  laws  in  force  for  centuries. 

Had  the  provisions  of  the  laws  been  carried  out, 
the  history  of  South  America  would  have  been  far 
different.  The  Indians  of  to-day  would  have  been  ten 
times  more  numerous  and  as  much  civilized  as  the 
rest  of  the  inhabitants. 

1  Englishmen  will  have  the  right  to  hurl  a  moral  stone  at  the 
Spaniards  of  those  times  on  the  day  when  a  white  man  is  hanged  for 
the  murder  of  a  "  native  "  in  any  of  their  colonies. 

2  "  Obedezco,  pero  no  cumplo." 


92  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

When  Heredia  arrived  at  Cartagena  he  found  the 
Licenciado  Miguel  Diaz  de  Armendariz  arrived  from 
Spain  to  promulgate  the  new  code  of  laws  and  to 
institute  another  residencia  against  him  and  his 
government.  This  residencia  seems  to  have  been 
without  result,  for  Heredia  continued  in  his  post  of 
governor,  loved  and  esteemed  by  all. 

It  was  not  written  that  he  should  have  a  moment's 
peace,  for  a  conspiracy  broke  out,  known  as  the 
"  Friars'  revolt."  A  friar  called  Albis,  "  a  turbulent 
and  lewd "  priest,  as  ran  the  phrase  in  those  days, 
entered  into  a  league  with  discontented  soldiers  from 
Peru  to  rise  and  kill  the  governor  during  a  function 
in  the  church.  The  "  sacred  rogue  "  himself,  who 
had  to  preach  upon  the  day  fixed  for  the  revolt, 
arranged  to  give  the  signal  from  the  pulpit.  Heredia 
got  wind  of  what  was  likely  to  occur,  so  when  the 
friar  mounted  the  pulpit  he  found  the  church  was 
packed  with  soldiers,  who  at  once  arrested  him. 
Several  of  his  coadjutors  paid  for  their  villainy  upon 
the  scaffold.  The  friar  himself  pleaded  the  benefit  of 
clergy.  Heredia  sent  him  back  to  Spain.  In  the 
Habana,  Albis  tried  to  escape  by  climbing  down  the 
cable  of  the  anchor  of  the  ship ;  but,  falling  off,  was 
drowned. 

Misfortunes  never  seem  to  have  given  Heredia  any 
respite,  for  hardly  had  the  rebellion  of  the  friars  been 
squashed  than  a  great  fire  broke  out  that  burned  the 
city  almost  to  the  ground.  Heredia,  who  in  such 
moments  never  had  a  thought  of  self,  flew  with  his 
slaves  to  try  and  save  the  church  that  from  the  first 
had  been  his  pride. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  93 

After  incredible  exertions  he  had  the  flames 
extinguished,  only  on  his  return  triumphant  to  find 
his  own  house  burned  to  the  ground  and  everything 
he  had,  consumed.  Once  more  he  set  to  work  to 
rebuild  the  city  he  had  founded  in  his  youth.  This 
time  he  refused  to  allow  a  single  house  of  wood  to  be 
run  up,  but  pledged  his  credit  to  the  uttermost  to 
the  inhabitants,  enabling  them  to  borrow  money  to 
construct  well-built  and  solid  houses  of  stone,  after 
the  Spanish  style. 

A  year  went  past,  and  all  the  time  he  laboured, 
sometimes  working  with  his  own  hands,  to  reconstruct 
the  town.  His  popularity  was  never  greater.  The 
people  saw  the  aged  founder  of  the  town,  now  grey, 
but  still  erect  and  vigorous  as  when  full  thirty  years 
ago  he  had  ridden  out  upon  his  "  valiant  horse  "  for 
his  first  Indian  fight,  working  both  day  and  night 
assiduously,  with  admiration  and  respect.  All  might 
have  yet  been  well,  and  Pedro  de  Heredia  might 
have  gone  honoured  to  his  grave  in  Cartagena,  the 
city  that  he  founded  in  his  youth  and  strove  for 
in  old  age.  One  day,  however,  without  a  warning  a 
ship  came  into  the  bay  bearing  one  Juan  Maldonado, 
to  take  another  residencia  upon  some  old  com- 
plaint forgotten  long  ago  by  those  who  made  it,  but 
pigeon-holed  in  Spain.  All  the  inhabitants  were 
indignant,  and,  rallying  round  their  governor,  refused 
permission  to  the  Oidor  to  proceed  against  him. 

Heredia  himself  determined  once  more  to  visit 
Spain,  remembering  his  kind  reception  at  the  Court 
so  many  years  ago.  At  Cartagena  he  embarked  for 
the  last  time,   reached  the    Habana  after   a    stormy 


94  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

passage,  and  re-embarked  for  Spain.  Storms,  similar 
to  those  that  had  pursued  him  all  his  life,  whether  by 
land  or  sea,  kept  him  three  months  upon  the  voyage. 
At  last,  when  close  to  Cadiz,  a  sudden  tempest  over- 
whelmed the  ship,  and  sank  her  only  a  cable's  length 
or  two  from  land. 

The  crew  all  perished  in  the  waves,  and  Heredia, 
left  alive  upon  the  wreck,  swam  strongly  for  the 
shore.  Those  standing  on  the  beach  thought  him  in 
safety,  when  a  great  billow  dashed  him  on  the  rocks, 
washing  his  body  out  to  sea. 

His  corpse  was  never  found,  and  so  he  perished,  as 
he  lived,  struggling  with  destiny.  "  It  was  notable," 
says  Padre  Simon,  "  the  grief  his  death  caused  when 
the  news  reached  Cartagena,  for  the  affection  that  all 
held  him  in  was  great.  They  loved  him  as  the 
founder  of  the  city,  and  as  the  father  of  it,  and  for 
his  character,  for  he  was  one  who  soon  forgave 
his  enemies,  an  almsgiver,  and  always  strove  to  settle 
quarrels  and  smooth  out  troubles  when  it  was  possible." 

No  man  can  have  a  better  epitaph.  For  thirty 
years  he  ruled  the  town  that  he  had  founded,  in  evil 
and  in  good  repute,  but  always  honourably.  His  life 
was  typical  of  the  best  conquerors  of  America  : 
always  in  action,  still  pushing  onward  to  the  unknown. 
His  bones  lie  buried  in  the  sea.  No  marble  marks 
his  resting-place  ;  but  surely  his  spirit  must  still 
haunt  Cartagena,  the  city  of  his  dreams. 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  heroic  age  of  Cartagena  may  be  said  to  have 
terminated  with  the  death  of  Pedro  de  Heredia. 
The  conquest  of  the  coast  country  was  now  completed, 
and  Federman,  Quesada,  and  Belalcazar  had  pushed 
on  to  their  wondrous  meeting  in  the  plains  of  Bogota. 
The  interior  of  the  country  had  assumed  much  the 
same  appearance  that  it  still  keeps,  and  all  the  most 
important  towns  were  built.  The  River  Magdalena 
had  become  the  chief  channel  of  communication  with 
the  interior,  and  has  remained  so  down  to  the  present 
day.  The  mountain  passes  through  the  Andes  that 
lead  to  the  great  plains  of  Casanare,  an  extension  of 
the  Llanos  of  Venezuela,  on  which  were  bred  the 
cattle  and  the  horses  that  were  the  arms  and  support 
of  the  independence  wars,  had  all  been  pretty  well 
explored. 

In  the  interior  life  began  to  be  arranged  after  the 
Spanish  fashion,  but  on  a  larger  basis,  and  without  the 
fear  either  of  attacks  from  Barbary  by  the  Moors,  or 
from  the  fear  of  poverty  within.  As  the  whole 
Spanish  race  is  democratic  socially,  distinctions 
amongst  the  white  population  were  but  slight. 
Nobility  was  in  the  main  based  upon  purity  of 
blood. 

95 


96  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Twenty  miles  from  the  coast  the  negro  popula- 
tion— then  all  slaves — ceased  to  prevail.  Their  place 
was  taken  by  the  Indians  who,  though  politically 
free,  were  held  in  economic  slavery  by  the  system 
known  as  "  peonage."  1 

The  aristocracy  of  race  and  intellect  collected  in 
Bogota,  and  in  such  remote  and  old-world  towns  as 
Pasto  and  Popayan.  Business  and  energy  were  to  be 
found,  as  they  are  to-day,  principally  on  the  coast,  for 
there  the  people  had  the  benefit  of  more  frequent 
intercourse  with  Spain  and  with  the  outer  world. 

In  the  remote  interior — for  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten 
that  a  journey  to  the  capital,  slowly  ascending 
the  River  Magdalena  in  canoes  or  in  the  barges 
known  as  bongos,  propelled  by  poles,  took  three  or 
four  weeks,  and  the  trip  might  easily  last  a  month 
— customs,  beliefs,  and  modes  of  thought  were 
crystallized.  As  the  first  conquerors  had  come  from 
Spain,  when  the  Catholic  faith  was,  in  addition 
to  a  creed,  a  bond  of  race  and  national  unity  against 
the  Moors,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  clergy  had 
enormous  power.  The  Indians  had  to  conform  by 
force,  and  outwardly  at  least  were  most  devout, 
although  there  are  not  wanting  those  who  say  outward 
conformity  did  not  exclude  adherence  to  their  older 
customs  and  the  faith  of  their  ancestors. 

The  coastal  negroes  seem  to  have  been  but  little 
tinged  with  Voodooism  or  with  Obi  worship, 
creeds  that  they  brought  from  Africa  and  still  clung 
to  in  the  islands  of  the  Caribbean  Sea.     In  Colombia 

1  This  was,  and  still  is  in  Mexico,  a  sort  of  aggravation  of  our 
own  (now  disused)  truck  system. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  97 

they  all  were  Christians — that  is  to  say,  temperamental 
Christians,  a  blend  of  child  and  savage,  so  intermingled 
that  you  can  never  say  with  certainty  which  side  is 
uppermost.  In  the  small  towns  the  merchants1 
formed  the  aristocracy.  These  may  have  been 
descended  from  good  families  in  Spain,  who  left  their 
native  country  at  a  time  when  trade  was  a  degradation 
that  no  self-respecting  person  cared  to  engage  in  ; 
but  once  settled  in  Colombia  their  view  was  abso- 
lutely changed.  Just  as  amongst  the  Arabs,  where 
"merchant"  (tagir)  almost  equals  "gentleman,"  so 
in  Colombia  the  scions  of  the  first  families  of  Spain 
were  not  ashamed  of  trade. 

Most  of  them,  beside  their  stores,  had  cattle-farms, 
sugar-plantations,  or  some  other  industry  ;  but  the  best 
portion  of  their  lives  was  passed  within  their  stores. 
So  it  has  continued,  and  nothing  is  commoner  than 
to  be  served  with  sugar  or  with  tea  by  a  man  who 
holds  high  military  rank,  but  does  not  think  he 
derogates  at  all  from  his  position  by  weighing  out 
his  goods. 

This  state  of  society  has  produced  the  modern 
Colombian  character,  and  rendered  most  Colombians 
high-spirited  and  imbued  with  national  and  racial 
pride,  and  at  the  same  time  progressive  business 
men.  As  everyone  considers  that  he  is  a  gentleman, 
and  generally  is  one  in  manners  and  in  speech, 
society  is  truly  democratic,  for  insolence  and  rude- 
ness are  most  rare  to  meet  in  the  republic  from 
any  class  of  man.  All  South  Americans  seem  to 
know    by   intuition    that    democracy    without    good 

1  As  in  Scotland,  in  Colombia  every  shopkeeper  is  a  merchant. 

7 


98  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

manners  is  impossible,  and  that  rudeness  in  speech 
or  insolence  is  a  sure  sign  of  social  slavery.    Through- 
out the  continent,    in    all   the  varying    republics,  a 
South  American,  even   though    quite    unlettered,  is 
a  gentleman — that  is,  a  man  who  without  servility 
can  talk  to  any  other  human  being  on  an  equality. 
Votes,   citizenship,   reading  and  writing,   knowledge 
of  a  profession  or  a  trade,  yet  leave  a  man  a  boor, 
unless  social  equality  between  man  and  man  makes 
men  true  citizens.     Few  people  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
or  Teutonic   races  seem  to  take  this   in,  and  strive 
by  self-assertion  to  supply  what  they  do  not  possess. 
In   the   same  way  the    painter,  writer,  sculptor,  or 
composer,    who    sets    out    to    be    original,    of    set 
purpose,    consciously,    only   attains   vulgarity,   or   at 
the    best    that   eccentricity   that   always    marks    the 
inferior    mind  ;    so    does    the    man    who   wishes    to 
be    the    equal    of    his    fellows    always    remain    on 
an  inferior  plane.     In  every  case,  by  taking  thought 
upon   the    matter,  he   only    takes    a    cubit   off    his 
height.     This  is  an  error  that  no  South  American 
ever   falls  into.     He  never   thinks    about   it  and  is 
exactly  what  he  seems.     No  one  need  talk   down, 
even    to    an    ignorant    man,    in    South    America. 
In  fact,  it  would  be  instantly  resented,  for  all  feel 
that    every    man    knows   more    on    some   particular 
subject    than    his    fellows,    but   that    both   still    are 
men. 

If  he  is  ignorant  of  geography,  he  knows  he 
is  a  better  horseman  than  any  European  can 
aspire  to  be ;  but  does  not  therefore  think  himself 
better  than  the  European  on  that  account,  and  fails 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  99 

to  see  he  is  inferior  in  that  he  does  not  understand 
the  mechanism  of  a  motor-car. 

In  Colombia  the  national  character  was  formed 
through  many  circumstances.  When  the  fire  of 
discovery  and  the  search  for  gold  at  any  price  had 
died  down  a  little,  the  settlers  naturally  turned  to 
the  great  plains  of  the  Sinu  as  fields  for  cattle- 
breeding.  From  the  first  the  policy  of  the  Spanish 
Government  was  to  encourage  cattle-breeding  when- 
ever possible.  No  doubt  they  felt  that  the  feverish 
thirst  for  gold  would  soon  expire,  and  that  the 
population  should  be  securely  seated  on  the  land. 

In  most  respects  their  policy  in  regard  to  the 
Indies1  was  liberal  and  well  conceived.  Had  it 
been  carried  out,  the  "  Indies  "  of  to-day  would  have 
been  in  a  vastly  different  state.  However,  it  was 
uniformly  defeated  by  the  colonists,  who  relied  on 
the  want  of  communications  with  the  mother- 
country  to  disregard  the  laws,  and  did  so  with 
complete  impunity.  All  sorts  of  privileges  were 
given  to  settlers  on  the  banks  of  the  Sinu,  in 
Cartagena,  and  throughout  the  province  that  to- 
day is  called  Bolivar,  in  which  the  Sinu  acts  as  the 
Nile  in  Egypt,  both  as  an  artery  and  as  a  fertilizer. 
On  December  8,  1535,  the  Queen,  then  in  Madrid, 
received  a  petition  from  Alvar  Torres,  in  the  name 
of  himself  and  several  families  and  inhabitants  of 
Cartagena,  who  had  farms  on  the  Sinu,  praying 
for    remission  of  the    customs   dues  on  goods  from 

1  "  Las  Indias  " — /.<?.,  the  Indies — always  meant  America  to  the 
Spaniards,  hence  the  name  Cartagena  de  Indias  to  distinguish  it  from 
Cartagena  in  Spain. 


ioo  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Spain    for    the    space    of    seven   years.      It   runs   as 
follows  : 

"  To  the  Queen.  I,  Alvar  Torres,  in  the  name  of 
our  families  and  other  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
province  of  Cartagena,  wish  to  make  known  that 
whereas  there  is  a  scarcity  of  cattle,  both  in  the 
province  and  the  adjoining  islands,1  we  suffer  great 
necessity,  and  if  there  is  not  something  done  to 
help  us  the  country  will  become  depopulated. 
Therefore  we  humbly  pray  that  for  seven  years  we 
may  be  excused  from  paying  all  import  duties  of 
whatever  kind." 

The  petition  was  allowed  and  the  permission 
signed  :  "  I,  the  Queen."2  On  the  same  date  she 
signed  a  grant  of  five  hundred  ducats  to  the  same 
petitioners  to  build  a  church  in  "  which  God  shall 
be  served  and  praised."3 

Also,  on  the  same  date,  the  Queen  granted  two 
hundred  dollars  of  gold4  to  one  Pedro  de  Lerma, 
whose  horse  had  been  "  killed  in  battle  by  the  Indians, 
in  the  service  of  the  Crown."  This  shows  a  careful 
inquiry  into  detail  that  does  Her  Majesty  great 
honour,  and  points  to  a  different  state  of  mentality  from 
that  prevailing  in  our  own  time,  when  the  Crown 
would  probably  instantly  recognize  and  pay  a  debt  of 
a  million,  but  refuse  one  of  two  hundred  dollars  as 
being  quite  outside  its  province.  Still,  the  larger 
sum  is  made  up  dollar  by  dollar,  and  only  the  snob- 
bishness of  the  contemporary  mind  makes  it  refuse 
to  take  due  notice  of  small   sums.     By  this  attention 

1  Jamaica,  Cuba,  Hispaniola,  etc.  2  "  Yo,  la  Reyna." 

3  " .  .  .  Dios  sera  servido  e  loado."  4  "  Pesos  de  ore" 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  101 

to  small  matters  did  the  Crown  of  Spain  attach  its 
people  to  itself  and  make  them  feel  that  they  were 
part  and  parcel  of  a  great  national  whole.  The 
Spanish  character  has  its  defects,  in  plenty,  but 
nobbishness  was  never  one  of  them.  A  certain 
homeliness  pervades  the  fibre  of  most  Spanish  things 
— art,  literature,  and  manners — and  shows  the  people 
nearer  to  nature  than  are  any  northerners.  This 
trait,  of  course,  passes  to  their  descendants  in  America. 

As  Cartagena  gradually  became  important  and  the 
chief  depot  for  the  Plate  ships,  and  known  over  the 
whole  of  South  America  for  its  wealth  and  luxury, 
so  did  the  interior  lapse  into  somnolency,  until  few 
provinces  of  the  republic  became  so  little  known. 

The  towns  were  as  a  rule  mere  rows  of  huts 
thatched  with  palm  leaves,  irregularly  grouped  round 
the  church,  which  usually  was  built  of  brick  and 
stuccoed  over  and  seemed  quite  disproportionately 
large  for  its  surroundings.  The  richer  cattle-farmers 
lived  a  semipatriarchal  life  on  their  haciendas  or  in 
their  houses  in  Cartagena,  visiting  their  farms 
occasionally.  All  dressed  in  white,  and  all  thought 
little  of  a  day  of  twenty  leagues  upon  a  pacing  mule. 
All  carried  arms,  though  usually  their  guns  were  out 
of  order  and  rust-eaten.  Still,  all  the  upper  classes 
prided  themselves  upon  their  culture,  and  never  fell 
into  the  state  of  ignorance  that  prevailed  in  other  of 
the  republics  thirty  or  forty  years  ago.  No  country 
of  the  New  World  had  so  fierce  and  desperate  a  fight 
for  independence  as  Venezuela  and  Colombia,  then 
joined  together  into  a  single  State. 

In  all  the  battles  and  the  sieges  Cartagena  had  its 


102  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

share  ;  but  the  plains  of  the  Sinu  lay  far  off  from  the 
seat  of  conflict,  and  the  change  of  government  from 
Spanish  rule  to  the  republic  cannot  have  greatly 
influenced  the  national  life.  The  province  slumbered 
on,  much  as  a  sloth  sleeps  on  a  tree,  until  by  slow 
degrees  the  influence  of  the  United  States  drew  it 
insensibly  into  the  maelstrom  of  contemporary  life. 


CHAPTER  X 

The  district  of  the  Sinii  and  the  old-world  city  of 
Cartagena,  once  the  most  important  of  the  Spanish 
possessions  in  New  Granada,1  of  recent  years  are 
coming  back  into  their  old  estate.  Nothing  can  stop 
the  port  of  Cartagena  from  becoming  eventually  the 
chief  emporium  of  trade  upon  the  coast.  Its  un- 
rivalled harbour,  sheltered  from  every  wind;  its 
healthy  climate,  compared  with  those  of  other  cities 
in  like  latitude;  its  nearness  to  the  Panama  Canal; 
and  the  traditions  it  enshrines,  will,  when  the  railway 
system  of  the  republic  is  a  little  more  advanced, 
render  it  the  glory  of  the  land.  Its  rival,  Barranquilla, 
has  no  harbour ;  ships  have  to  unload  their  goods  at 
Puerto  Colombia,2  thus  adding  greatly  to  their 
expense. 

The  plains  of  the  Sinu  are  becoming  known  as 
cattle-breeding  areas,  and  the  cattle  are  steadily  being 
improved  in  class.  Thus  with,  say,  three  or  four 
million  head — a  quantity  that  they  could  easily  sustain 
— and  one  or  two  packing  houses,  a  supply  of  meat 
would  be  available  that  hitherto  has  been  untouched. 

1  Colombia. 

2  This  port  is  not  in  reality  a  port  at  all,  but  merely  a  long  pier. 
It  is  situated  only  two  or  three  miles  from  the  once  well-known 
Sabanilla,  now  useless  and  silted  up.  From  Puerto  Colombia  a  rail- 
way some  eighteen  miles  in  length  connects  it  with  Barranquilla. 

103 


104  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Therefore  the  future  of  Cartagena  as  the  maritime 
capital  of  both  the  republic  and  the  district  of 
Sinu,  seems  to  be  well  assured.  The  legends  that 
have  gathered  round  the  city,  its  frequent  sieges,  its 
struggle  in  the  revolutionary  war  of  independence, 
its  very  name  of  "  Cartagena  of  the  Indies,"  always 
attracted  me.  Something  there  was  about  it  that 
made  it  different  from  any  other  town  in  all  America. 
Fallen  from  its  proud  estate  I  knew  it  was,  and  a 
mere  shadow  of  its  former  glory  of  the  days  when 
the  great  silver-fleet  used  to  assemble  in  the  bay. 
Something  there  was  attaching  to  it  that  seemed  to 
bring  it  into  touch  with  its  unlucky  founder,  Pedro  de 
Heredia,  as  it  appeared  to  me ;  I  often  read  the  works 
of  Padre  Simon,  and  pondered  on  its  fate,  formerly  so 
magnificent,  and  now,  as  the  French  poet  has  it, 
"a  sad  city,  once  queen  of  the  oceans,"1  uncrowned 
and  sleeping  between  the  white  surf  and  the  green 
palm-trees. 

The  war,  that  brought  so  many  changes  and  sent 
so  many  people  into  countries  that  they  had  never 
thought  to  see,  gave  me  the  opportunity  to  visit 
Cartagena  and  the  Sinu. 

Those  who  had  to  cross  the  seas  during  the  war 
are  never  likely  to  forget  their  voyages.  On  a  cold 
January  morning  I  found  myself  aboard  the  s.s.  Cavma, 
going  down  channel  in  a  storm  of  snow.  All 
lights  were  out  for  fear  of  submarines  and  other 
German  wonders  of  the  deep.  Few  passengers  on 
board,  for  none  but  those  obliged  to  travel  travelled 
in  those  days ;  an  ice-cold  ship  ;  and  the  prospect  of 
1  Jose  Maria  de  Heredia.     Sonnet,  on  "  Cartagena  de  Indias." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  105 

the  danger-zone  in  front  of  us — did  not  exactly  make 
for  high  spirits  or  for  mirth.  We  crossed  the  zone 
without  misadventure,  as  quietly  as  if  it  had  been  the 
Channel  in  the  piping  times  of  peace.  In  those  days 
it  was  supposed  to  extend  about  two  hundred  miles 
westward  of  Ireland — that  is,  two  hundred  more  or 
less,  for  now  and  then  ships  were  sunk  farther  out, 
as  the  ship's  officers  observed,  to  cheer  us  up.  Then 
the  patrol  boats  left  us  to  our  own  devices,  and  we 
ploughed  westward  through  the  snow.  Day  followed 
day,  and  freezing  nights  succeeded  one  another.  All 
our  diversion,  if  it  can  fairly  so  be  called,  was  to  look 
out  for  raiders,  for  hardly  had  the  danger-zone  been 
passed  than  the  wireless  picked  up  messages  of  vessels 
sunk  right  on  the  course,  and  sometimes  to  the  east 
or  west  of  it. 

So  piercing  was  the  cold  and  so  monotonous  the 
days,  the  snowstorm  so  continuous,  that  it  seemed 
we  had  embarked  upon  an  Arctic  expedition.  The 
great  event  was  the  arrival  of  the  wireless  news, 
telling  about  the  varying  fortunes  of  the  war.  As  we 
drew  nearer  to  America  even  that  failed  us,  for  the 
news  from  the  American  stations  only  spoke  of  base- 
ball, telling  how  "  Star-Pitcher  Wilbur "  had  been 
re-engaged  by  the  Tuxedo  Club  at  a  salary  of  fifteen 
thousand  dollars.  Interesting,  of  course,  to  "  baseball 
fans,"  but  rather  of  the  nature  of  Dead  Sea  fruit  to 
men  anxious  about  the  war. 

When  the  weather  cleared  enough  we  went  to 
gun-practice,  but  thriftily,  for  the  Admiralty  that 
maintained  some  twenty  thousand  u  flappers "  to 
muddle    its   accounts    was    mighty    sparing    of    the 


106  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

national  treasury  as  far  as  merchant  seamen  were 
concerned,  and  doled  out  ammunition  with  as  much 
parsimony  as  if  the  cartridge-cases  had  been  made  of 
gold. 

Still,  it  was  interesting  to  watch,  and  much  more 
interesting  to  watch  the  demeanour  of  the  crew  and 
passengers.  We  cheered  each  hit,  as  if  it  had  been  a 
submarine,  whilst  a  miss  produced  a  feeling  of  dis- 
appointment, for  everyone,  though  he  said  nothing, 
saw  in  the  practice  the  image  of  a  fight. 

The  captain  standing  on  the  bridge — a  gallant 
figure,  with  his  sunburnt  face  and  keen  sea-eyes, 
alert  and  vigorous — shouted  his  orders  to  the  gunners : 
"Three  thousand  yards,  four  thousand,  five  thou- 
sand— fire!"  and  the  gun  whizzed  the  shot  close  to 
the  tub  put  out  as  target,  or  plumped  into  it.  We 
knew  the  skipper  must  have  stood  up  on  his  bridge, 
strenuous  and  seamanlike,  in  the  same  attitude, 
shouting  his  orders,  when  the  year  before,  almost  in 
the  same  week,  he  sunk  a  submarine  after  a  hot  fight, 
somewhere  in  the  Levant.  The  gunners,  naval 
reserve  men,  were  such  good  marksmen  that  we 
almost  wished  a  submarine  would  show  its  periscope, 
for  none  of  us  had  any  doubts  as  to  the  result. 
None  showed  itself,  and  though  we  did  not  know  it  at 
the  time  the  Cavinas  days  were  numbered  on  the  sea. 

Time  passed  so  slowly  and  so  uneventfully  that  the 
appearance  of  a  tramp  on  the  horizon  brought  every- 
one on  deck.  As  we  all  knew  the  raiders  were 
disguised,  it  was  an  anxious  moment,  till  the  captain, 
shutting  his  glasses  with  a  snap,  pronounced :  "  A 
Britisher  !" 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  107 

Officers  and  men  on  board  had  been  torpedoed 
two,  three,  and  four  times,  and  we  listened  to  their 
yarns  just  as  a  conscript  listens  to  a  seasoned  soldier 
telling  his  experiences  under  fire,  and  wondered  how 
we  should  behave  when  it  was  up  to  us.  The  yarns 
were  far  from  reassuring,  for  the  average  sailor-man 
never  allows  a  tale  to  suffer  any  deterioration  in  the 
telling  if  he  can  manage  it.  u  You  see,"  said  one, 
"it  was  this  way.  Me  and  Bill  and  Jack  and  old 
George  Southcote  was  'angin'  to  a  boat.  Torpedoed  ? 
Why,  yes,  of  course,  or  else  why  should  we  all 
have  been  a-'angin'  to  the  boat  ?  We  wasn't  bathing. 
Our  ship,  one  of  the  Wilson  Line,  just  stopped  a 
torpedo  right  amidships,  off  the  Fastnets.  She  sunk 
in  'alf  an  hour.  That's  why  we  was  a-'angin'  to  the 
boat.  And  cold  ?  Yes,  as  cold  as  'ell  or  the  South 
Shetlands.  Bill  says  to  me :  '  'Enery,  I  can't  'old  on ' ; 
and  I  says :  '  Can't  ye  ?'  and  he  drops  off ;  that  left 
the  four  of  us.  Old  Southcote,  'e  'ad  sailed  all  his 
life  out  of  the  Hartlepools,  'e  drops  off  next.  Jack 
goes  the  last.  I  says  to  'im :  ■  'Old  on ;  don't 
leave  a  fellow  all  alone.'  'E  says  :  ■  No  use,  'Enery  '; 
and  he  drops  off,  and  leaves  me  'angin'  to  the  boat, 
froze  to  the  gizzard,  in  a  Bull  o'  Barney  of  a  sea.  'Ow 
it  all  'appened  I  don't  know,  but  I  finds  myself  on 
board  of  a  destroyer,  a-goin'  into  Plymouth  Sound. 
They  says  they  found  me  lashed  to  the  boat  with  a 
bit  of  sennit  and  my  braces  ;  but  I  never  knowed. 
Anyhow,  I  turns  in  and  'as  a  sleep,  and  in  the 
morning,  after  breakfast,  borrows  a  rig-out  from  a 
sailor-man,  a  friend  of  mine,  and  goes  ashore.  There 
I  takes  the  train  right  'ome  to  Maiden  Newton,  and 


108  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

next  day  I  gets  married.  That  was  a  year  ago,  and 
'ere's  a  bit  of  baby's  'air  I  always  carries  in  my  pocket- 
book." 

That  was  the  kind  of  yarn  that  made  one  long  to 
be  torpedoed  in  cold  weather,  not  altogether  with  a 
view  to  matrimony.  The  Newfoundland  barquantine, 
ninety  days  out  from  San  Francisco,  that  spoke  to  us, 
asking  for  the  right  latitude,  for  she  was  out  of  her 
reckoning,  was  a  great  incident.  I  see  her  now,  and 
probably  shall  always  see  her,  backing  her  fore-topsail 
as  she  hove-to  a  bit  to  signal  us.  Her  lines  were 
beautiful,  her  sails  well  cut  and  fitting  as  only  vessels 
of  her  class  ever  appear  to  get  their  sails  to  fit,  and 
she  was  bound  to  Heart's  Content.  How  in  her 
lengthy  pilgrimage  she  had  escaped  the  raiders  and 
the  submarines  u  only  the  Lord  can  say,"  the  second 
officer  remarked,  adding  reflectively,  "  but  as  He  will 
not  say,  it  does  not  matter  if  He  knows."  We  dipped 
our  flags,  and  she  filled  her  fore-topsail  and  came  up  to 
her  course  again,  and,  I  hope,  reached  Heart's  Content, 
if  it  can  be  that  such  a  place  exists  upon  the  earth. 

We  coaled  in  Hampton  Roads,  still  in  a  blizzard, 
which  took  us  down  south  of  Cape  Hatteras,  with- 
out encountering  the  German  raider  that  was  said  to 
be  upon  the  coast.  Spirits  began  to  rise,  the  berths 
gave  up  their  dead,  and  it  appeared  to  even  the  most 
timid  of  us  that  the  bitterness  of  German  death  had 
passed.  Next  morning  the  men  washing  decks  were 
warming  their  frozen  hands  in  the  tepid  Gulf  Stream 
water,  although  the  temperature  was  low.  A  dense 
sea-fog  hung  on  the  water  making  the  Gulf  Stream 
look  like  a  landscape  in  the  mountains  of  the  moon, 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  109 

fantastic,  beautiful,  and  taking  shapes  like  islands, 
promontories,  and  cliffs.  Out  of  it  might  have 
appeared  the  fata  morgana,  though  I  am  glad  it  did 
not  do  so,  for  so  few  ships  were  on  the  seas  that  the 
apparition  must  have  been  that  of  an  enemy,  some- 
where hull  down,  but  dangerously  near.  Jamaica 
in  a  day  or  two,  the  Palisados,  Port  Royal,  and  the 
Blue  Mountains,  as  in  "  Tom  Cringle's  Log." 

The  passengers  all  went  ashore  and  disappeared 
into  the  inky  crowd  that  jostles  one  another  on 
Kingston  quays  and  streets.  In  the  evening  the 
Cavina  cleared  out  for  Port  Limon.  I  watched 
her  in  the  red  and  purple  sunset  sink  by  degrees 
into  the  Caribbean  Sea,  first  her  hull  disappearing, 
and  then  her  funnel  and  her  spars.  When  she  had 
vanished  into  the  setting  sun  my  friend  and  secretary, 
turning  to  me,  said  :  "  Well,  good  luck  to  her.  I 
hope  she  gets  home  safe."  It  was  not  written  so,  and 
in  a  month  or  two  news  came  that  she  was  sunk. 
Vain  was  our  gun-practice,  and  vain  the  fight  she 
made.  The  first  shot  took  away  her  rudder,  the 
second  smashed  her  gun,  and  she  lay  helpless.  The 
skipper  was  the  last  man  to  leave  her.  No  one  who 
had  ever  seen  him  could  have  doubted  it.  No  one 
was  killed  except  one  of  the  gunners  who,  so  to  speak, 
poor  fellow,  was  indeed  hoist  with  his  own  petard,  as 
the  dismantled  gun  fell  on  him.  The  passengers  and 
the  crew  watched  her  sink  slowly  from  the  boats, 
a  sight  that  must  have  seemed  to  them  a  sacrilege, 
though  their  own  lives  were  in  such  jeopardy.  They 
were  all  saved  after  four  hours'  drifting  in  the  boats. 
Poor  old  Cavina  ! 


no  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

On  the  dread  day  when  the  green,  cruel  sea  gives 
up  its  wrecks,  if  she  should  still  be  fated  to  sail 
phantom  oceans,  I  hope  the  powers  that  be,  if 
powers  of  any  kind  survive,  will  see  to  it  that  she 
has  better  heating-apparatus  in  her,  for  ghosts  are 
sure  to  be  a  chilly  crew. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  poor  old  Cavina  seemed  to  take  away  a  portion 
of  one's  life,  so  much  a  ship  eats  into  the  vitals  of  the 
soul,  even  of  passengers.  The  neglected  island  of 
the  woods  and  streams1  has  always  seemed  to  me 
a  piece  of  Africa  gone  astray  in  the  Caribbean  Sea. 
The  only  European  things  I  can  discover  in  it — 
I  speak  but  as  a  passer-by,  and  know  there  is  a 
settled,  well-established  planter  life  in  the  interior — 
are  the  hideous  houses  of  the  new  Kingston,  and  the 
stunted  little  thoroughbreds  that  draw  the  cabs.  It 
is  said  there  is  no  other  horse  in  all  the  island,  but  the 
thoroughbred.  In-breeding  and  the  climate  have 
stunted  him  in  stature.  He  still  remains  a  thorough- 
bred, with  all  the  qualities  and  defects  inherent  to 
his  caste. 

The  white  race  rules,  of  course,  in  Jamaica,  but 
does  not  dominate.  Now,  man  cares  little  for  mere 
rule,  one  would  suppose,  if  he  cannot  dominate ;  not 
by  the  knout,  but  by  his  moral  force.  This  certainly 
he  fails  to  do  in  the  fair  island  that  seems  always 
in  one  fashion  or  another  to  have  eluded  us.  Streets, 
lanes,  and  fields,  the  beach,  the  valleys,  sides  of 
streams  where  clusters  of  negro  huts  han  glike  wasps' 

1  "Xaimaica"  was  the  Carib  name  of  the  island,  and  it  is  said  to 
have  signified  "  land  of  woods  and  streams." 

in 


ii2  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

nests  from  a  bough  of  larch — they  all  are  filled  with 
negroes  engaged  in  their  chief  function  of  continuous 
babbling.  Though  the  men  wear  what  they,  I  think, 
call  "  pants  "  and  "  vests,"  and  certainly  straw  hats 
and  clean  white  shirts,  the  women,  always  more 
racial  than  the  sex  they  rule,  revel  in  their  pink 
skirts  under  green  blouses,  and  purple  neck-hand- 
kerchiefs, an  atavism  of  the  "  Long  Ju-ju,"  that 
seems  appropriate  enough  in  the  surroundings 
where  they  live.  The  general  look  of  being  at 
home  in  their  own  house  is  very  striking  amongst 
negroes  in  Jamaica.  They  may  have  once  been 
slaves,  although  I  doubt  it,  thinking  that  the 
alleged  "  masters "  were  most  probably  the  slaves, 
in  the  same  way  the  owner  of  a  great  country 
house  in  England  is  the  servant  of  his  servants  and 
has  to  humour  them  to  make  them  take  their  pay. 
Possession,  philosophically  viewed,  is  moral,  not 
material.  Although  most  of  the  property  in  Jamaica 
is  vested  in  the  whites,  who  make  the  laws  and 
have  imported  their  religion  and  their  code  of 
morals,  the  blacks  have  modified  them  all,  insensibly. 
In  the  same  way  that  the  "  mere  Irish "  altered 
the  substance  of  all  the  Normans  brought  to 
Ireland,  and  carefully  preserved  the  shadow,  so 
have  the  black  race  in  Jamaica  insensibly  fashioned 
the  social  aspect  of  the  land,  according  to  their 
taste.  Whilst  they  look  quite  at  home,  the  whites 
look  mere  exotics  and  mere  foreigners.  This  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  Jamaica  is  one  of  our 
oldest  colonies,  won  for  us  by  that  Lord  Protector 
who  revived  the  glories  of  our  flag,  but  entailed  the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  113 

now  happily  mitigated  "  British  Sunday  "  on  an  ale- 
loving,  once  merry  land.  He  it  was  who  sent  the 
first  thoroughbred  horses  to  the  island,  for  Old  Noll, 
though  he  upset  his  coach  with  the  six  Flemish 
mares  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  loved  horses  all  his 
life. 

The  island  might  become  a  centre  for  horse- 
breeding,  or  certainly  for  that  of  mules.  At  the 
time  of  the  conquest  of  Mexico,  and  generally  of 
Tierra  Firme,  it  sent  out  most  of  the  horses  that 
trampled  the  Indians  underfoot  to  the  satisfaction  of 
Don  Pedro  de  Heredia,1  and  no  doubt  of  Cortes. 
Some  of  the  horses  and  the  mares  whose  colours, 
qualities,  and  fate  Bernal  Diaz  has  preserved  for  us  in 
his  great  chronicle,  perceiving  that  they  too  were 
"conquerors,"  came,  no  doubt,  from  the  plains 
round  Spanish  Town.2  As  the  whole  island  lacks 
advancement,  and  certainly  should  be  able  to  export 
at  least  two  thousand  mules  a  year,  if  the  breeding  of 
them  were  attended  to,  perhaps  the  Government 
might  be  induced  to  look  into  the  matter,  for  the 
Jamaican  mule  is  excellent.  It  lacks  the  size  and 
weight  of  mules  bred  in  Missouri  and  in  Kansas,  but 
it  is  a  well-made,  compact,  and  lively  animal  of  about 
fourteen  hands,  active  and  serviceable.  Its  feet  are 
good,  and  high,  and  very  hard — remarkably  so,  even 
amongst  a  breed  of  animal  renowned  for  standing 
work  on  stony  roads.  A  little  encouragement  from 
the  Home  Government  would  do  wonders  in  the 
island,  but  that  encouragement  never  seems  to  come. 
The  result  is  that  the  attention  of  the  people  is  turned 
1  See  note  on  p.  43.  2  Then  called  Santiago  de  la  Vega. 

8 


ii4  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

to  the  United  States,  where  a  market  always  is  to  be 
found  for  all  the  island  can  produce. 

Tourists  from  New  York  descend  in  flocks  upon 
Jamaica  every  winter,  whilst  those  from  England  are 
few  and  far  between.  Little  by  little,  as  it  appears  to 
the  casual  observer,  the  island  is  being  delivered  over 
to  the  negro  race.  This  may  not  be  a  bad  thing,  for 
after  all  they  till  the  soil  and  do  all  the  hard  work, 
but  when  they  begin  to  rise  to  administrative  offices 
a  serious  problem  will  present  itself  to  British  states- 
manship. 

The  island,  a  terrestrial  paradise  of  lofty  mountains, 
clear,  crystal  rivers,  rich  alluvial  plains,  and  beaches 
fringed  with  coco-palms,  only  wants  development  to 
be  once  more  one  of  the  most  flourishing  of  our 
Crown  Colonies.  Glasgow  made  it,  or  it  made 
Glasgow,  a  hundred  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
and  there  exists  no  reason,  except  the  absolute  neglect 
of  it  by  every  Government,  why  Kingston  should  not 
have  a  Glasgow  Street,  nearly  as  full  of  traffic  as  is 
Jamaica  Street  in  the  great  city  on  the  Clyde. 

Even  in  Kingston,  hideous  and  Board-of- Works 
looking  as  it  is,  there  yet  exist  fine,  old  colonial 
houses  that  have  escaped  the  ravages  of  earthquakes 
and  of  fires.  Throughout  the  island  are  dotted 
here  and  there  great  country  mansions,  some  of  them 
dating  from  Cromwellian  times,  that  serve  to  show 
the  riches  and  the  state  in  which  the  planters  lived  in 
the  old  days.  They  seem  like  pieces  of  old  England 
gone  astray  amongst  luxuriant  vegetation,  clear  skies, 
and  brilliant  sun.  They  yet  remain  in  testimony  of  a 
brighter  time.     They  remind  me   of  old  houses  in 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  115 

South  Carolina  or  in  Georgia,  states  that  have 
suffered  as  Jamaica  suffered  when  slavery  came  to  an 
end  ;  but  in  those  states  proprietors  seem  to  have 
adapted  themselves  to  the  new  conditions  more  readily 
than  in  the  "  Island  of  the  Woods  and  Streams."  The 
difficulty  is  the  labour  question,  complicated  by  the 
undoubted  fact  that  the  black  race  is  singularly  averse 
from  work. 

All  the  roads  and  the  lanes  of  the  island  are  full 
of  chattering  negroes,  merry  and  well-fed  looking, 
going  apparently  to  nowhere,  to  do  nothing  in 
particular.  No  land  in  all  the  world  is  better  suited 
to  the  race.  The  earth  laughs  crops.  The  climate 
does  not  require  warm  fires  or  winter  clothing,  and 
so  they  chatter  on,  having  grasped  the  fact  that  in 
increased  production  lies  the  future  of  finance. 

In  no  part  of  the  world  do  they  appear  more 
absolutely  at  home.  Their  religion,  always  a  chief 
preoccupation  of  their  race,  they  take  even  more 
jovially  than  their  ancestors  could  have  done  on  the 
coast  of  Africa.  There  at  least  there  was  the  chief 
who  made  them  work  for  him  occasionally;  the 
Ju-ju  man  who  terrified  them  with  his  gri-gris  and  his 
fetishes  ;  the  fear  of  spirits  that  pervades  the  savage 
negro's  life,  like  a  black  nightmare  ;  and  the  once 
present  terror  of  the  witch  doctor  with  his  accusations 
of  mysterious  crimes,  and  almost  certain  death  by 
poison  or  by  torture  to  everyone  accused. 

In  Jamaica  these  all  are  absent.  In  the  various 
sects  in  which  the  negro  race  is  shammed,  as  Swift 
so  jovially  expresses  it,  the  congregation  pays  the 
minister,  and  thus  takes  away  from  him  the  keys  of 


n6  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

hell.  As  the  gates  of  heaven  are  said  to  be  cast  open 
by  the  gift  of  Peter's  pence,  so  are  the  gates  of  hell  fast 
closed  by  the  withholding  of  the  pence.  No  one  was 
ever  easier  to  convert  to  Christianity  than  the  negro. 
Animistic  to  the  core,  a  god  or  two  was  but  a  welcome 
addition  to  the  black  Pantheon,  in  which  Aphrodite 
was  the  chief  divinity.  The  churches,  Anglican  and 
Roman,  said  but  little  to  him ;  the  chapels  claimed  him 
as  their  own.  In  them  he  felt  he  was  at  home  ;  the 
fervent  prayers — he  likes  to  "  sweat  'urn  Jesus  " — and 
the  bellowed  hymns  were  far  more  to  his  taste.  No 
man  more  fervent  in  belief,  no  man  less  actuated  by 
mere  works,  than  is  our  coloured  brother  in  the 
Lord. 

It  is  whispered  darkly  in  the  island,  that  the 
Voodoo  cock  sometimes  is  still  slain  at  midnight,  and 
that  mysterious  rites  are  held  in  secret,  remote  from 
observation  of  the  whites.  Who  shall  say  whether 
this  is  true  ?  They  certainly  exist,  both  in  Haiti 
and  in  Santo  Domingo,  and  perhaps  in  other  islands. 
The  phallic  dance,  the  mento,  the  counterpart  of 
the  candomble  of  the  negroes  of  Brazil,  and  the 
cumbiamba  of  Colombia,  is  danced  quite  openly,  for 
negroes  do  not  dance  exclusively  for  exercise  as  people 
are  alleged  to  dance  here  in  this  frigid  isle. 

Still,  all  the  hard  work  of  the  island  is  done  by 
the  negro  race.  They  dug  the  Panama  Canal  and 
made  most  of  the  railways  of  the  Central  Republics. 
Well  treated,  they  work  well,  and  it  should  never 
be  forgotten  that  nothing  can  be  done  throughout 
Jamaica  without  their  muscle  and  their  brawn.  Good 
wages  and,  above  all,  fair  treatment  are  essential  in  all 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  117 

dealings  with  them,  and  it  should  be  remembered  that 
the  natural  man  is  quite  averse  from  work  if  he  can 
live  without  it.  This  in  the  Island  of  Jamaica  he  can 
do  quite  easily,  and  thus  to  work  at  all  is  to  confer  a 
favour,  a  proposition  that  the  negro  understands 
thoroughly. 

In  such  a  natural  garden  of  Eden  as  is  Jamaica, 
the  chief  blots  are  the  towns  and  villages.  The 
larger  towns  are  commonplace  beyond  belief,  bad 
copies  of  poor  originals  at  home.  The  villages,  long 
straggling  streets  of  negro  huts,  all  built  of  wood 
looking  like  rows  of  empty  match-boxes.  Nature 
does  all  she  can,  embowering  the  meanest  "  shack  " 
in  masses  of  bright-coloured  creepers,  and  shading 
miserable  wooden  living  boxes  under  majestic  trees 
that  spring  up,  as  if  by  magic,  in  a  year  or  two. 

Man,  black  and  white  alike,  does  little  towards 
embellishment,  though  here  and  there  fine  villas  are 
to  be  seen  outside  the  towns,  or  old  colonial  houses  in 
the  country  districts,  surrounded  by  great  trees.  The 
negro  village  is  an  eyesore,  a  waste  of  ragged 
chickens,  with  but  the  coloured  petticoats  of  the 
women  hanging  out  to  dry  to  give  relief  to  it.  One 
town  in  all  the  island  stands  out  alone  to  show  what 
towns  should  be  in  such  surroundings.  Right  in  the 
middle  of  the  plain  from  which  it  takes  its  name 
stands  Santiago  de  la  Vega.1  Its  ancient  name  is  that 
I  like  to  think  of  when  I  recall  the  place  to  memory, 
although  to-day  it  masquerades  as  Spanish  Town.  A 
straight,  white,  dusty  road,  that  breaks  off  to  the  left 
at  Constant  Springs,  leads  out  to  it.     Along  it  wander 

1  Vega  =  vale,  or  plain. 


n8  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

groups  of  negroes,  all  chattering,  all  merry-faced,  and 
looking  as  if  the  primeval  curse  sat  lightly  on  them. 
Others  drive  scraggy  mules  in  carts,  unpainted  and 
uncleaned.  After  each  cart  a  yellow  dog  or  two 
plods  on  amongst  the  dust.  You  pass  Tom  Cringle's 
tree,  a  bongo  or  a  ceiba,  if  I  remember  rightly,  and 
in  the  distance  the  town  comes  into  sight.  You  rub 
your  eyes,  not  only  to  get  the  dust  out  of  them,  but 
because  you  are  amazed.  You  scarcely  note  the 
groups  of  negresses  that  pass  you,  statues  in  ebony, 
with  their  inimitable  walk,  ivory  teeth,  bright- 
coloured  clothes,  their  handkerchiefs  about  their  heads, 
and  air  of  Africa,  for  it  appears  a  cinematograph  has 
been  at  work,  and  you  are  looking  at  a  town  either  in 
Mexico  or  Spain. 

Here  is  no  modern  horror  of  cement-built 
phalansteries  as  in  Kingston,  no  negro  squalor  as  at 
Port  Antonio  or  Anotto  Bay.  You  pass  at  once  into 
a  stately  Spanish  plaza,  surrounded  by  great  trees. 
Little  bricked  paths  lead  to  the  sacramental  garden 
in  the  middle,  with  its  stone  benches,  flowers,  and 
fountain,  moss-stained  and  secular.  Great  clumps  of 
crimson  bougainvilleas  fill  the  angles  of  the  plaza,  and 
the  bright  creeper  known  in  Colombia  as  "la  bellisima" 
climbs  on  the  mouldering  iron  railings  which 
surround  the  square.  The  sound  of  murmuring 
waters  is  always  in  the  ear,  as  the  bricked  rills 
meander  to  the  fountain,  where  swim  goldfish,  not 
blotched  and  unhealthy-looking  as  they  are  in  colder 
climates  but  really  golden,  and  deserving  of  the  name. 

One  looks  around,  expecting  that  a  Spanish  girl 
in  black  mantilla  will  cross  the  square  upon  her  way 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  119 

to  Mass,  followed  by  an  attendant  negro  woman.  She 
does  not  pass.  Nor  does  a  ragged  gentleman  ask  alms 
with  the  air  of  doing  you  a  favour,  nor  on  the  benches 
does  there  sit  a  group  of  politicians,  railing  at  the 
Government  and  anxious  to  avail  themselves  of  any 
little  post  that  it  may  throw  to  them.  No  Spanish 
soldier,  smart,  clean,  and  olive-coloured,  in  his  suit  of 
snowy  drill,  saunters  across  the  plaza  (for  it  is  really  a 
plaza,  not  a  square)  rolling  a  cigarette.  No  priest  read- 
ing his  breviary  strolls  beneath  the  trees,  or  friar  with 
his  bare  feet  and  well-lined  belly  hurries  back  to  his 
convent,  not  to  miss  Mass  or  meat. 

None  of  these  types  are  to  be  seen  ;  not  the  lithe 
bull-fighter,  swaying  upon  his  hips  just  as  a  Spanish 
dancer  sways  and  undulates,  nor  yet  the  stout  and 
shawl-wrapped  women  with  their  unstable  busts  all 
innocent  of  stays. 

Somehow  one  feels  that  they  still  haunt  the  plaza, 
where  they  walked  a  thousand  times  in  days  forgotten 
and  long  past.  Surely  their  images  are  photographed 
upon  the  stones  and  benches,  for  nature  prodigal  of 
life,  of  vegetation,  and  of  all  she  makes  and  casts  away 
without  a  thought,  must  preserve  shadows,  for  after 
all  they  are  the  most  enduring  part  of  man.  Spain, 
or  its  shadow,  still  lives  in  the  plaza  ;  but  all  around  is 
Georgian  England,  homely  and  picturesque,  looking 
as  if  a  country  town  in  Sussex  had  been  transplanted 
and  had  taken  root,  flourished,  and  died,  and  remained 
petrified. 

The  parish  church,  with  due,  squat  spire  on  which 
St.  Peter's  cock  swings  about  languidly  as  if  it  felt 
the  heat,  brick-built  and  savouring  of  the  days  when 


120  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

churches  were  a  sort  of  cross  between  a  barrack  and 
a  windmill,  fills  one  angle  of  the  square.  A  slate- 
flagged  path  leads  up  to  it,  and  when  you  enter  into 
its  sacred  precincts,  the  familiar,  mouldy  smell,  pre- 
served, no  doubt,  just  as  miraculously  as  the  orders  of 
the  bishops  who  rule  over  it,  assaults  your  nostrils, 
bringing  back  any  parish  church  in  Sussex  or  in  Kent. 

Worthies  in  full-bottomed  wigs,  all  wrought  in 
marble  or  in  alabaster,  lie  under  mighty  Georgian 
catafalques,  awaiting  the  last  trump  that  chubby 
angels  perched  on  the  cornices  like  swallows  perched 
upon  a  rail,  seem  eager  to  blare  out.  Their  virtues 
and  their  services  to  the  island  are  couched  in  Latin, 
rather  bovine  than  canine  ;  yet  they  sleep  on,  as 
undisturbed  by  sermons  or  by  hymns  as  they  would 
sleep  in  a  dark  corner  next  to  the  yew-tree  under 
the  lush  grass  of  a  churchyard  in  the  old  country, 
with  an  intruding  nonconformist  pony  grazing  above 
their  heads.  The  groups  of  Georgian  buildings  and 
Rodney's  monument  under  its  cupola  give  an  air 
of  Kensington  or  Kew,  gone  astray  in  the  tropics. 
They  do  not  make  too  jarring  a  discord  with  the  old 
Spanish  plaza  and  its  tall  rustling  trees. 

All  seems  to  blend  together  into  an  harmonious 
whole.  Even  the  negroes  seem  to  walk  more  warily 
in  the  decaying  streets,  and  the  mulata  girls  put  on  a 
foreign  air  as  they  go  chattering  about  the  lanes. 
Possibly  reformers  have  marked  down  Spanish  Town, 
as  the  cockney  "  big-game  "  shooter,  with  his  "  shoot- 
ing licence,"  marks  down  a  giraffe  for  destruction 
in  East  Africa. 

In  the  meantime  it  slumbers  peacefully,  a  relic 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  121 

of  the  days  when  planters,  sitting  down  to  dinner 
at  three  o'clock,  sat  on  till  midnight,  eating  pork 
chops  and  good  corned  beef,  washed  down  with  port 
and  rum.  Long  may  it  slumber,  and  soon  may  the 
other  towns  wake  up;  for  they  need  progress  and  the 
vivifying  breath  of  trade  :  but  Santiago  de  la  Vega, 
with  Toledo,  Granada,  Fez,  and  other  relics  of  the 
past,  should  be  preserved  intact  for  us  to  wander 
in  and  meditate,  when  our  heads  ache  with  the  rude 
shouting  of  the  votaries  of  10  per  cent,  bowing 
before  their  god. 

A  delightful  island  with  its  high  mountains  and 
its  fertile  vales,  its  tropic  forests,  and  its  memories  of 
the  past :  its  Spanish  names  preserved  distorted  in 
their  Anglo-Saxon  aspect,  Wagwater  for  "  Agua  Alta  " 
and  "  Boca  de  Agua "  turned  into  Bogwalk.  An 
island  of  great  capabilities,  a  sort  of  Hamlet  of  the 
West  Indies,  lacking  advancements,  poor  in  the 
midst  of  natural  riches,  ready  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  United  States,  unless  we,  like  the 
Devil,  "  tak'  a  thocht,"  and  mend  our  ways. 


CHAPTER   XII 

The  fruit-boat  steamed  past  all  that  now  remains 
of  the  once  famous  harbour  of  Port  Royal,  with 
all  its  memories  of  Nelson  and  the  buccaneers.  It 
dropped  the  Palisados,  leaving  them  a  long,  brown 
line  that  melted  in  a  moment  into  nothingness,  only 
the  shoals  remaining,  white  and  angry,  until  they  too 
were  lost.  Kingston,  with  its  long,  new  phalansteries, 
and  wooden  houses  with  their  high  brick  steps  before 
the  doors,  was  blended  with  the  flowering  trees  and 
shrubs  into  an  harmonious  haze  of  purple  and  of  red. 
The  plain  of  Liguanea,  its  hospitable  club-house, 
shaded  by  clumps  of  star  apples  and  papaws,  and 
fringe  of  sturdy  lignum-vitae  trees  with  their  dark 
purple  flowers,  the  racecourse,  and  the  bright  green 
lanes,  vanished  into  the  past  that  has  swallowed  up  so 
many  pleasant  memories  of  happy  days. 

Lastly,  the  Blue  Mountains  slowly  began  to  sink. 
Newcastle,  with  its  white  houses  clustering  on  the 
hillside,  its  tropic  forests,  and  its  palms,  melted  re- 
luctantly into  the  atmosphere.  Then,  the  tall  peaks, 
diaphanous  and  blue,  hung  for  an  instant  in  the  sky, 
looking  like  reversed  atolls.  They  too  disappeared, 
and  then  we  set  our  course  to  Cartagena  of  the 
Indies,  across  the  Caribbean  Sea,  choppy  and  wind- 

122 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  123 

curled  as  when  the  first  of  the  old  mariners  entered 
its  humours  in  their  logs.  Gradually  the  sea  grew 
calmer  and  more  tropical,  the  shoals  of  flying  fish 
more  frequent,  and  then  a  long,  low  line  of  coast 
appeared,  fringed  with  a  growth  of-  coco-palms. 
The  warm  air  of  the  tropics  floated  out,  until  at 
last  even  the  Caribbean  Sea  was  stilled  by  it,  and 
lay  out  calm  and  blue,  with  the  reflection  of  a  few 
white  clouds  seeming  to  float  upon  the  surface,  as 
water-lilies  float  upon  the  surface  of  a  pond.  Islands 
appeared  to  rise  out  of  the  sea  to  meet  the  ship, 
and,  as  she  hastened  past  them,  the  huts  and 
hamlets  buried  in  the  trees  impressed  you  with  an 
air  of  comfort  and  content,  probably  quite  illusory 
in  fact. 

Most  harbours  and  most  towns,  upon  whatever 
coast  they  lie,  are  visible  a  long  way  off;  but  when  a 
vessel  coming  from  Jamaica  to  Cartagena  makes  its 
landfall,  a  city  seems  to  rise  out  of  the  waves. 
Cadiz,  the  Silver  Cup,1  and  Mogador,  called  Sueira — 
that  is  the  Picture — by  the  Moors,  alone  can  rival  it. 
Both  of  them  emerge  as  if  a  coral  reef  had  suddenly 
been  raised  out  of  the  depths,  and  both  of  them  look 
sea-born  and  ethereal,  seen  from  a  vessel's  deck.  They 
spring  out,  as  it  were,  suddenly,  as  if  the  coral  insects 
working  upwards,  had  finished  only  the  night  before, 
so  white  the  houses  and  so  dazzling  the  walls.  The 
tropic  haze  only  allows  the  unconquered  city,2  Carta- 
gena, and  its  outworks  to  become  visible,  as  it  were, 
through  a  veil  of  gauze. 

As  you  stand  watching  the  low  coast,  fringed 
1  "La  taza  dc  plata."  2  "  La  ciudad  invicta." 


I24  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

with  its  palms  and  ringed  about  with  surf,  on  the  left 
hand  a  block  of  masonry  appears  out  of  the  sea.  It 
takes  the  shape  of  an  old  Spanish  fort.  The 
crenellated  walls  have  mouldered,  the  battlements 
have  fallen,  in  places,  on  the  sand.  No  more  the 
blood  and  orange  standard  with  its  castles  and  its 
lions  flaps  in  the  light  air  ;  but  the  flat  parapets,  the 
deep  embrasures,  through  which  the  noses  of  the 
brass  carronades  still  peep,  the  massive  iron-studded 
doors,  the  counterscarps,  the  mamelons  and  ravelins, 
the  machicoulis  and  round  pepper-boxes  in  which  the 
sentinels  dressed  in  their  buff  coats,  their  morrions  on 
their  heads,  their  halberts  in  their  hand,  stood  sentinel 
in  vain  against  El  Draque  and  of  Pointis — all  speak  of 
Spain.  Gone  is  her  glory,  and  gone  the  glory  of  the 
fort — that  is,  its  military  glory  has  departed ;  but  as  a 
feature  in  the  landscape  it  still  holds  its  place.  The 
lofty  water-gate,  the  central  tower,  and  the  long 
flanking  walls,  shelter  but  a  trading  schooner,  white 
and  yacht-like,  with  her  tall,  tapering  masts  and 
bulwarks  with  their  sheer,  recalling  slavers  of  the 
past,  and  a  few  crank  canoes. 

The  dense,  metallic-looking  vegetation  surges  up 
behind  the  ruinous  Castillo  de  San  Fernando,  just  as 
the  ocean  surges  up  to  kiss  it  on  the  seaward  side. 
A  grass-thatched  lean-to  shelters  the  guardian  and  his 
family,  and  a  small  garden  overgrown  with  weeds  is 
part  of  the  parade  ground  where  the  Spanish  soldiers 
paced  about  in  times  gone  by,  listening  to  the  long- 
drawn-out  cry  of  "  Centinela  alerta-a-a,"  from  the 
pepper-boxes. 

Sic  transit — that  is,  if  anything  ever  really  changes, 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  125 

and  if  a  phantom  guard  does  not  still  listen  to  a 
phantom  sentinel,  so  deep  the  roots  that  Spain  struck 
down  into  the  heart  of  the  New  World. 

Opposite  to  the  Castillo  de  San  Fernando  the 
Castillo  de  San  Jose  frowns  ruinously  upon  the  strip 
of  calm,  blue  sea  between  their  walls.  Upon  it  the 
same  air  of  neglect  has  cast  a  shroud  (perhaps  a  veil), 
and  great,  green  patches  on  the  stonework  look  like 
designs  drawn  by  that  king  of  decorators,  Time. 
Bright  flowering  creepers  twine  themselves  about  the 
embrasures,  and  a  canoe  or  two  rock,  with  the  round 
bullet  head  of  a  negro  propped  against  the  gunwale 
as  he  sleeps,  balancing  himself  instinctively,  just  as  a 
frigate  bird  is  said  to  sleep  upon  the  wing. 

As  the  vessel  at  half-speed  makes  her  way  through 
the  oily  waters,  where  the  "  shark  pursues  the 
mackerel,"1  and  schooners  lie  becalmed,  their  sails 
flapping  against  the  mast,  suddenly  a  city  rises  from 
the  waves. 

A  mass  of  domes  and  towers,  of  houses  painted 
pink,  with  brown-tiled  roofs,  gleam  in  the  sun.  A 
golden  haze  softens  and  blends  them  into  a  picture  ; 
showing  no  outline,  melting  into  the  atmosphere, 
intangible  and  looking  like  the  mirage  of  a  town, 
seen  in  a  dream.  The  floating  city  is  ringed  round 
with  a  vast,  brown  wall,  turreted  here  and  there  with 
towers,  broken  by  bastions  and  by  counterscarps.  Great 
gates  yawn  here  and  there  in  which  portcullises  are 
ready,  or  were  ready  till  time  devoured  them,  to  drop 
upon  the  foe.     All  the  medieval  art  of  fortification 

1  "Le  requin  poursuit  en  paix  les  scombres":  Sonnet,  on 
"  Cartagena  de  Indias,"  Heredia. 


126  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

seems  to  have  been  exhausted,  as  if  some  Vauban  of 
those  days  had  wrought  his  masterpiece  and  then 
retired,  knowing  his  work  impregnable  if  hearts  were 
stout  enough  behind  its  walls.  Palms  and  more 
palms  fringe  all  the  shores;  castle  succeeds  to  castle, 
El  Pastelillo,  El  Manzanillo,  and  finally  San  Lazaro 
upon  its  isolated  rock,  now  ruinous,  and  a  mere 
playground  for  lizards  and  for  snakes. 

Beyond  it  rises  the  hill  known  as  La  Popa,  from 
its  resemblance  to  the  stern  of  a  galleon.  A  convent 
crowns  it,  once  tenanted  by  Discalced  Augustinians, 
and  still  under  the  patronage  of  Nuestra  Serlora  de  la 
Popa.1  The  Augustinians  have  long  departed  ;  but 
the  advocation  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Popa  still  remains, 
although  the  convent  with  its  massive  walls  and  deep, 
sunk  well  is  ruinous,  tenanted  by  day  by  humming- 
birds and  at  night  by  armadillos  and  by  bats.  Pointis 
and  Drake,  to  show  their  patriotism  or  their  faith, 
both  held  it  to  ransom,  and  to-day  a  sea  of  tropic 
vegetation  flows  up,  threatening  to  engulf  its  walls. 

The  rocky  road  that  leads  to  it  is  a  stiff  pull  in 
such  a  climate,  but  once  beneath  the  asgis  of  Our 
Lady  at  the  top,  the  view  repays  the  effort  more  than 
a  hundredfold.  The  harbour  with  its  mouths  lies 
out  beneath  one's  feet.  The  castles  still  keep  their 
illusory  watch  at  La  Boca  Chica,  and  farther  off" 
El  Castillo  Grande  stands  on  guard  over  the  forgotten 
glory  of  medieval  Spain.  So  clear  the  air  is  that 
you  can  see  the  flying-fish  rise,  fluttering  like  a  shower 
of  emeralds,  and  disappear  into  the  waves,  scarcely 
as  large  as  minnows,  seen  thus  from  afar.  Canoes 
1  "  Con  la  advocacion  de  Nuestra  Senora  de  la  Popa." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  127 

with  their  white  sails  drift  along  lazily,  the  trees  upon 
the  surf-kissed  beaches  rustle  in  the  breeze,  looking 
like  gigantic,  ostrich  feathers  growing  from  the  sand. 
From  the  vessel's  deck,  as  she  advances  up  the  bay, 
La  Popa  seems  to  shut  the  world  out.  Only  the 
faint  blue  line  of  the  hills  above  Turbaco  to  the  south, 
take  away  the  illusion  of  a  town  set  on  an  island,  in 
its  dark  blue  lagoon. 

As  you  draw  near  the  shore,  the  cathedral  dome 
seems  to  detach  itself  from  the  sea  of  rose-pink 
houses,  and  the  towers  of  La  Merced,  Santo  Tomas, 
and  La  Trinidad  stand  up  like  lighthouses  above  the 
massive  walls  and  the  compacted  houses  of  the  town. 

The  vessels  anchored  in  the  port  lie  blistering  in 
the  sun ;  no  sound  breaks  on  the  ear;  the  very  waters 
seem  asleep  and  quite  unstirred,  except  when  now 
and  then  a  shark's  triangular  back-fin  cuts  them  like 
a  black  wedge,  and  then  sinks  down  into  the  oily 
depths.  No  one  would  feel  surprised  if  there  were 
still  galleons  at  anchor,  or  if  the  captain  of  the  port 
were  to  come  off  dressed  in  trunk-hose  and  cloak,  his 
rapier  riding  on  his  thigh. 

What  is  surprising  is  the  arrival  at  the  modern 
wharf  of  La  Machina,  with  its  corrugated-iron  roof, 
its  derricks,  and  the  appliances  of  commerce  that  have 
rendered  all  the  world  great,  prosperous,  and  most 
uncomely  to  the  eye.  'Tis  true,  the  movement  of 
the  wharf  is  not  excessive,  and  the  perspiring  negro 
labourers  often  relax  their  toil  to  mop  their  faces  and 
to  light  their  cigarettes.  All  dress  in  white,  all  wear 
straw  hats,  and  all  chatter  as  negroes  chatter  all  the 
world  over,  ceaselessly,  though  at  La  Machina  their 


128  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

voices  are  less  harsh  than  in  Jamaica,  and  the  lisping 
dialect  that  they  speak  is  not  unpleasant  to  the  ear. 

A  blend  of  Andaluz  and  of  Mandingo,  with  all  the 
terminations  of  the  words  left  out,  or  "  eaten  "  as  the 
Spaniards  say,  the  Costeno *  dialect  is  very  difficult  to 
catch  for  Castilians,  who  rattle  out  their  consonants  as 
sharply  as  hail  falling  on  a  window-pane.  A  little 
railway,  running  two  or  three  miles  through  scrub, 
leads  to  the  town,  passing  close  to  the  harbour,  with 
the  walls,  the  churches,  and  the  town  seen  just  across 
the  bay.  It  finishes  at  a  great  railway-station,  fit  for 
the  terminus  of  a  great  line,  but  built  in  the  middle 
of  a  waste,  sun-swept  and  arid,  in  which  the  little 
negro  boys  play  baseball,  regardless  of  the  heat. 
The  public  gardens,  with  their  usual  stucco  seats  seen 
everywhere  in  South  America,  and  the  great  modern 
market  with  its  iron  roof,  are  on  the  left  hand  of  the 
square.  The  Martyrs'  Monument  rises  hard  by,  to 
mark  the  place  where  patriots  were  shot  down 
by  other  patriots.  O  Liberty,  thou  bloodstained 
goddess,  as  I  once  heard  an  orator  in  one  of  the 
republics  say,  what  crimes  have  been  committed  in 
thy  name ! 2  Certain  it  is  that  the  same  goddess 
usually  eats  her  children,  and  perhaps  counts  as  many 
victims  in  her  cause  as  Mumbo-Jumbo  or  as  Jugger- 
naut, or  any  other  of  the  causes  or  the  faiths  for  which 
men  persecute  and  slay. 

A  modern  gateway  with  a  clock,  the  space  cut 
out    of  the    Cyclopean-looking    walls,  is   the    chief 

1  "Un  costeno"  is  a  man   from   the  coast — black,  white,  or 
Indian. 

2  I  doubt  if  he  had  ever  heard  of  Madame  Roland.     The  phrase 
probably  sprang  from  personal  experience. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  129 

entrance  to  the  unconquered  city,  as  its  inhabitants 
delight  to  call  it. 

Once  passed  beneath  it,  and  after  having  crossed 
the  little  square,  known  as  La  Plaza  de  los  Coches,  in 
which  stand  dozens  of  open  vehicles,  each  drawn  by  a 
slight,  well-bred  horse,  that  looks  a  little  like  an  Arab, 
long,  sandy  streets  lead  off  on  every  side.  Some,  it  is 
true,  are  paved  for  a  short  distance,  but  all  relapse 
into  their  native  sand  until  they  "  die,"  as  the  Spanish 
phrase  goes,  either  at  the  seashore  or  passing  by  other 
apertures  cut  in  the  walls  come  out  on  the  great 
waste  where  stands  the  railway-station. 

Surely  few  cities  in  the  world  can  equal  Cartagena 
for  its  beauty,  its  quietness,  its  air  of  fallen  greatness, 
and  for  the  silence  of  the  streets.  The  rose-pink 
houses  with  their  deep  eaves  and  overhanging 
balconies,  the  massive  doors  studded  with  iron  nails, 
and  grated  windows,  give  a  look  of  Seville ;  but  a  sad 
Seville,  without  the  air  of  joyousness  and  paganism 
that  stamps  the  city,  under  the  patronage  of  the  saints 
Justa  and  Rufina,  and  whose  emblem  is  the  Knot.1 

In  no  place  in  the  New  World  has  Spain 
impressed  herself  more  strongly,  with  the  exception 
perhaps  of  Mexico,  than  in  this  city  on  the  sand.  The 
massive  crests  above  the  doors  show  that  the  first  con- 
querors were  hidalgos,  and  the  vast  mouldering  houses 
speak  of  the  time  when  the  saying,  "  I  am  glad  of  it,  as 
said  the  governor  of  Cartagena,"  became  proverbial  in 
the  Spanish  tongue.     The  streets  were  narrow,  and  it 

1  The  Knot  was  given  to  Seville  by  Aionso  el  Fabio,  son  of 
St.  Ferdinand,  as  its  emblem.  It  is  supposed  to  be  the  Nostus 
Herculis  of  the  Phoenicians,  who  used  it  as  a  mark  for  their  bales  of 
merchandise  to  signify  they  were  of  full  weight. 

9 


130  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

appears  to  have  been  the  custom  of  those  days  for 
gallants  to  tie  their  horses  to  the  gratings  of  the 
windows,  as  they  stood  courting  the  ladies  penned 
behind  them  in  the  medieval  Spanish  style. 

This  in  the  narrow  streets  blocked  up  the  traffic, 
for  Cartagena  was  in  those  days  a  busy  mart  crammed 
full  of  soldiers  fitting  out  expeditions  to  discover  gold 
mines,  to  conquer  empires,  and  to  extend  the  power 
and  might  of  Spain.  Slaves  thronged  the  streets, 
negroes  but  just  arrived  from  Africa,  bozales — that  is, 
muzzled,  for  they  could  speak  no  Christian — or  Indians 
taken  with  the  blunderbuss  and  lance. 

The  governor — unluckily  fame,  ever  careless  of  its 
greatest  sons,  has  not  preserved  his  name — was  a 
reforming  spirit.  He  straight  wrote  out  an  edict,  and 
had  it  promulgated.  "  Horses,"  he  said,  "  found  tied 
to  balconies,  shall  all  be  hamstrung  by  my  body- 
guard. Read  this  and  mark  it  well,  ye  citizens 
of  Cartagena."  The  citizens,  accustomed  to  high- 
sounding  phrases  and  to  ukases  that  never  were 
enforced,  obeyed  but  did  not  think  about  complying.1 
They  tied  their  horses,  as  they  had  always  done,  to 
the  gratings  of  the  windows,  for  gentlemen  of  their 
calibre  could  not  go  afoot,  and  an  impatient,  unneces- 
sary page  would  have  been  an  uncomfortable  adjunct 
to  their  love-making. 

At  last  upon  a  day  the  governor  held  a  reception, 
and  all  the  "  flower  and  cream  " 2  of  Cartagena  were 

1  "  Obedezco,  pero  no  cumplo  " — /.*.,  "  I  obey,  but  do  not 
comply  " — was  the  set  phrase  used  by  Spanish  governors  in  the  Indies 
when  either  an  absurd  order  or  one  enjoining  them  to  put  down 
the  enslavement  of  the  Indians  arrived  from  Madrid. 

2  "  Flor  y  nata." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  131 

bidden  to  attend.  This  was  the  chance  the  halberdiers 
had  waited  for  to  prove  their  vigilance.  The  governor 
was  seated  at  the  receipt  of  fashion  and  of  rank, 
exchanging  compliments  with  grave  and  reverend 
though  perhaps  addle-pated  counsellors,  and  with 
an  eye,  we  may  suppose,  upon  the  ladies,  for  even 
governors  are  men. 

A  page  approached  him  and  whispered,  H  Sir,  the 
halberdiers  have  just  come  on  two  horses  tied  to  a 
window-grating  and  have  hamstrung  them  both." 
The  governor,  pleased  that  his  foolish  edict  had  been 
carried  out,  exclaimed,  "  I  am  glad  of  it,"  and  the 
page  withdrew.  He  had  hardly  reached  the  door 
than  another,  rushing  in,  desired  to  speak  instantly  with 
the  governor.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  as  he  twisted  round  his 
hat,  "  the  soldiers  have  indeed  hamstrung  two  fine 
horses  tied  to  the  window-bars."  u  What  of  that," 
said  the  governor,  "  the  edict  has  been  complied 
with  and  the  halberdiers  did  well."  The  page  replied, 
"  That  is  so,  sir ;  but  the  two  horses  were  your  own." 
The  governor,  making,  as  one  supposes,  a  rabbit's 
laugh,1  said,  "  I'm  glad  of  it,"  and  hence  the  saying, 
"I  am  glad  of  it,  as  said  the  governor  of  Cartagena," 
passed  into  a  phrase. 

1  "  La  risa  del  conejo."     The  phrase  corresponds  to  "  laugh  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  mouth." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  silent  city  strikes  an  air  as  of  monasticism. 
Long  stretches  of  brown  walls,  with  the  minutest 
windows  looking  out  upon  the  world,  speak  of  the  time 
when  the  streets  of  Cartagena  were  filled  with  friars, 
for  friars  in  every  age  seem  to  have  passed  their  time, 
everywhere  but  at  home.  The  convents  are  but  shells, 
for  now  the  friars  have  gone  to  other  worlds,  none 
of  which  can  be  hotter  than  the  old  town  itself. 
Though  they  are  gone,  their  influence  remains,  as  it 
were,  in  the  air,  and  certainly  in  the  hearts  of  the 
population,  for  Cartagena  is  a  stronghold  of  Catholi- 
cism. The  sandy  streets,  the  population  in  its  snow- 
white  clothes,  the  slender  traffic,  and  the  soft  and 
balmy  atmosphere,  make  up  a  picture  almost  unique 
in  South  America  to-day. 

The  high  Andean  cities,  Bogota,  La  Paz,  and 
Quito,  certainly  are  restful  enough  in  their  remoteness 
from  the  world.  Still,  their  harsh  climates  and  the 
necessity  to  wear  thick  clothes  and  move  about,  if 
only  to  keep  warm,  destroy  much  of  the  air  that  their 
old  Spanish  houses,  massive  walls,  and  churches 
springing  up  in  unsuspected  corners,  gives  them  at 
first  sight.  Up  in  the  Andes  the  people  huddle 
wrapped  up  in  blankets,  as  in  the  plateaux  of  Castile, 

132 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  133 

and  "  take  the  sun  "  at  the  corners  of  the  squares.  In 
Cartagena  the  sun  is  looked  on  as  an  enemy.  Every- 
one seeks  the  shady  corners  of  the  streets.  Thus 
you  may  say  that  the  Andean  cities  represent  Castile, 
whilst  Cartagena  stands  for  Naples  or  for  Seville,  with 
all  the  acuteness  of  the  wits  of  Southern  Europe  and 
a  far  greater  energy  of  body  and  of  mind.  The 
churches  and  the  empty  convents  speak  of  medieval 
Spain,  and  yet  you  feel  that  the  population  is  alive 
and  businesslike  according  to  its  lights. 

Once  a  stronghold  of  clericalism,  the  city,  although 
still  strongly  Catholic,  is  slowly  getting  free  from  the 
bonds  of  bigotry  that  still  bind  Bogota  and  Popayan, 
Pasto,  and  the  towns  of  the  interior.  The  fine 
cathedral  built  on  the  site  of  the  first  church  Heredia 
founded,  with  its  high  tower  that  stands  up  like  a 
lighthouse,  just  as  a  mosque  tower  stands  up  in  the 
East  above  the  sea  of  flat-roofed  houses  that  the  Moors 
took  to  Spain  and  the  Spaniards  transplanted  to 
America,  has  something  bare  about  it,  as  if  the 
familiar  air  of  churches  in  the  Old  World  could  not 
survive  the  transplantation  to  another  hemisphere. 

No  beggars  throng  the  doors  whining  for  alms  that 
sanctify  the  giver,  and  no  old  women  dressed  in  rusty 
black  hold  back  the  screens  before  the  door,  as  they 
extend  a  hand.  No  yellow  dogs  stray  in  and  out,  and 
in  the  choir  no  monks  sit  singing,  spitting  occasionally 
with  fervour,  as  they  sing.  Religion  has  an  air  of 
having  been  brought  over  with  the  conquest.  The 
air  of  homeliness,  of  having  grown  up  with  the 
country,  and  of  being  as  well  established  in  the  soil 
as  are  the  trees,  is  absent.      Just  as,   in   Protestant 


134  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

countries,  the  church  is  rather,  as  it  were,  a  temple, 
than  God's  house,  where  the  market-woman  sets  down 
her  basket  full  of  vegetables  beside  her,  as  she  turns 
in  to  pray,  and  squats  upon  the  floor,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  her  favourite  saint  in  ecstasy,  or  simply  fixed  from 
habit,  so  throughout  Spanish  America  the  church 
is  rather  a  place  of  worship  than  a  home.  In  Bogota, 
and  there  only  in  the  churches  built  at  the  time  of 
the  conquest  by  men  from  Spain  with  all  the  feelings 
and  traditions  of  their  native  land  still  fresh  upon 
them,  is  the  European  look  of  homeliness  and  ease 
to  be  observed.  There,  indeed,  in  the  barnlikc 
sanctuaries  run  up  hundreds  of  years  ago,  without  a 
definite  plan  ;  in  haste,  as  it  were,  to  have  some  place 
in  which  to  glorify  the  Deity  who  had  protected  the 
stern  warriors  in  their  cruelty  ;  dark,  with  the  dust  of 
ages  on  the  windows  making  the  gorgeous  gilding 
gleam  fitfully  in  the  prevailing  gloom — all  speaks  of 
Spain.  In  them,  Jimenez  de  Quesada,  Belalcazar,  and 
the  rest,  even  the  bloodstained  Federmann,  may  have 
heard  Mass  together  at  their  strange  meeting  on  the 
plains  of  Bogota. 

To-day  the  Indians  stroll  in  and  out  of  them  just 
as  they  walk  through  the  doors  of  their  own  ranchos, 
and  gaze  upon  the  saints,  under  whose  eyes  so  much 
injustice  was  perpetrated  on  their  ancestors,  with  that 
inscrutable,  veiled  look  the  Indian  turns  on  everything, 
so  baffling  to  men  of  other  race.  He  bows  his  head 
before  the  God  of  his  oppressors,  just  as  he  bows  his 
shoulders  to  the  burden  that  the  descendants  of  his 
conquerors  have  placed  upon  them,  and  in  neither 
case  says  anything.     What  he  is  thinking  of  no  one 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  135 

has  ever  fathomed;  but  outwardly  he  is  a  sad  and 
exemplary  Christian,  believing  everything,  enduring 
everything,  questioning  nothing,  never  repining,  and 
as  unfathomable  as  the  Sphinx.  Still,  for  all  their  air 
of  coldness,  the  churches  of  the  unconquered  city  are 
remarkable  for  having  nothing  of  the  Jesuit  style,  so 
common  in  the  New  World,  with  its  central  dome 
and  mouldings  like  the  pastry  on  an  old-fashioned 
open  tart  over  the  windows  and  the  doors. 

The  cathedral  is  a  long,  low  building  in  the 
Grasco-Roman  style.  The  tower  is  square,  and  in  its 
openings  the  great  bells,  so  seldom  silent,  hang  on 
their  wooden  beams.  Sometimes  a  vulture  flaps 
lazily  and  seats  himself  upon  the  sacred  embrasure, 
spreading  his  wings  as  if  he  gloried  in  the  sun,  and 
then  flies  down  on  to  a  piece  of  carrion  in  some 
deserted  corner  of  the  town. 

The  church  in  Cartagena  has  a  look  of  the 
cathedral  in  Valladolid,  the  pride  of  Philip  and  of 
Herrera  his  favourite  architect.  Something  it  has  of 
the  Escorial  and  something  purely  its  own,  sun-baked 
and  calcined,  without  the  smallest  lichen  clinging  to 
its  stones.  Inside,  like  other  Graeco-Roman  edifices, 
it  is  gaunt  and  empty-looking ;  but  a  refreshing 
coolness  always  reigns  about  its  aisles.  Its  glory  is 
its  pulpit,  preserved  miraculously  from  perils  of  the 
deep,  from  pirates,  barratry  of  mariners,  and  from  the 
enemies  of  our  lord  the  King.  The  story  goes  that 
the  Pope  of  those  days,  hearing  of  the  great  faith  and 
piety  of  the  citizens  of  Carthagena  of  the  Indies, 
wished  to  reward  them  with  a  gift,  suitable  to  him- 
self and  them.     So  he  called  to  him  the  best  artists 


136  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

of  his  time  and  bade  them  carve  a  pulpit  in  the  finest 
marble,  to  be  set  up  in  the  cathedral.  The  work 
accomplished  and  duly  blessed  by  God's  vicegerent 
upon  earth,  it  was  despatched  to  the  Americas  on 
board  of  a  galleon.  She  sailed  from  Cadiz,  clearing 
out  with  salvos  of  artillery,  left  the  black  shoal 
known  as  Las  Puercas  on  her  port  bow,  and  set  her 
course  towards  the  Indies.  All  went  well  with  her 
till  she  had  nearly  reached  her  goal.  The  castles  and 
the  lions,  in  their  blood  and  orange  field,  floated  out 
gallantly  from  the  high  jackstaff  that  she  carried  on 
the  poop ;  the  captain  paced  his  quarter-deck,  in  his 
buff  jacket,  with  his  long  rapier  by  his  side ;  the  crew 
lounged  on  the  lofty  forecastle  ;  the  lookout  man, 
without  a  doubt,  was  slumbering  in  the  cross-trees, 
when  someone  cried,  "  A  sail !"  All  was  confusion, 
for  in  those  days  in  southern  latitudes  all  strange 
sails  were  those  of  enemies,  and  the  accursed  French 
or  English  corsairs  were  always  imminent.  The 
corsairs,  for  pirates  seems  an  ugly  word  to  write 
of  our  own  countrymen,  who  were  no  doubt 
inspired  by  the  highest  motives  and  actuated  chiefly 
by  the  hate  of  Romish  errors,  soon  fired  a  gun 
and  forced  the  galleon  to  back  her  mainsail  and  lay  to. 
They  came  aboard,  and,  in  their  proselytizing  hatred 
of  idolatry  and  zeal  for  a  pure  faith,  thoroughly 
ransacked  the  ship.  They  packed  up  all  the  gold 
and  silver  that  they  found,  not  even  sparing  sacred 
vessels  of  the  Romish  faith  the  chaplain  had  stored 
in  his  cabin,  or  others  of  rich  plate  the  captain  kept 
beneath  his  bed  for  his  own  private  use,  tumbling 
them   all    promiscuously    into    a    gunny    sack    and 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  137 

carrying  them  off.  This  done  they  opened  con- 
scientiously the  boxes  and  the  bales.  What  was  their 
disgust  to  find  in  certain,  solid  cases  a  marble  pulpit, 
defiled  with  images  of  saints  sculptured  in  high 
relief  upon  its  sides.  Their  fury  knew  no  bounds, 
and  in  a  holy  orgasm  of  zeal,  comparable  alone  to 
that  which  armed  the  hand  of  Jenny  Geddes  to  launch 
the  stool  at  the  head  of  the  Erastian  preacher  long 
ago  in  Edinburgh  when  faith  and  morals  both  were 
pure,  they  cast  the  cases  on  the  waves.  Our  Lady  of 
the  Sea  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  all  the  cases, 
though  packed  with  marble,  floated  like  pumice-stone. 
Fear  fell  upon  the  heretics.  Straightway  they 
manned  their  boats  and  went  on  board  their  damnable 
freebooting  craft  and  sailed  away,  packed  to  the 
water-line  with  spoil.  But  round  the  Catholic  ship 
the  sacred  cases  floated  buoyantly,  like  children's 
balloons  that  have  escaped  their  owner's  little  hands, 
upon  the  Serpentine.  Then,  for  the  first  time  in 
their  lives,  did  all  the  crew  work  overtime.  They 
got  the  precious  cargo  all  aboard  again,  and  then  the 
captain,  after  a  due  thanksgiving,  came  up  upon  the 
poop.  Long  did  he  gaze  upon  the  sun,  using  his 
astrolabe  to  check  the  degrees  upon  the  quadrant 
(or  perhaps  cross-staff),  and  shouting  to  the  Spanish 
timoneer,  who  leaned  against  the  tiller  taking 
tobacco,  "  Keep  her  full  and  by,"  he  set  her  course 
again  towards  Cartagena,  a  spoiled  and  harried  man, 
but  yet  contented  that  the  hand  of  Providence  was 
still  about  him,  instant  to  defend.  He  sailed  a  day 
or  two,  and  now  the  breezes  turned  more  balmy  and 
the  winds  fell  light.    His  thoughts,  no  doubt,  for  even 


138  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

captains  of  galleons  were  not  exempt  (as  history  tells 
us)  from  the  ordinary  frailties  of  mankind,  began  to 
dwell  upon  the  ladies  of  the  unconquered  city, 
especially  on  one,  a  mulatilla,  whom  he  referred  to 
as  a  "  tizon  del  infierno,"1  adding  some  details  of  her 
charms  that  possibly  he  might  as  well  have  kept  for 
his  own  private  ear.  He  hummed  a  seguidilla,  and, 
looking  up  occasionally  at  the  after-leach  of  the  fore- 
topsail,  gave  orders  to  sheet  home  such  sails  as  were 
not  drawing  properly.  A  voice  from  the  fore-top 
was  heard,  hailing  the  deck,  "  A  sail,  a  sail,  on  the 
port  bow !"  Soon  she  drew  near,  and  the  black  flag 
flew  from  her  peak.  Confusion!  she  was  a  Dutchman, 
worse  even  than  the  accursed  English  who  had 
plundered  them  before.  This  time,  either  our  Lady 
of  the  Sea  was  sleeping  or  the  profane  and  amorous 
musings  of  the  captain  had  offended  her,  for  the  rude 
Dutchmen,  clattering  in  their  wooden  shoes,  were 
filled  with  fury  when  they  found  nothing  remained 
worth  taking,  so  thoroughly  had  the  Englishmen  gone 
through  the  bill  of  lading  and  the  charter  party. 
Cursing  their  fellow-heretics  as  skellums,  they  most 
methodically  butchered  the  crew  and  set  the  ship  on 
fire.  Then  they  sailed  off  towards  the  doom  that 
certainly  awaits  Dutch  pirates  after  their  lives  are 
over  and  the  seas  rest  from  all  their  exploits.  The 
giant  galleon  burned  like  the  funeral  pyre  of  all  the 
oceans  going  up  to  the  sky  in  expiation  of  the  crimes 
committed   on    the   sea    and   in   commemoration    of 

1  For  the  information  of  such  as  know  no  "  Christian,"  I  may 
say  that  the  phrase  means  "  brand  of  hell,"  but  in  no  wise  snatched 
from  the  burning. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  139 

the  nameless,  innumerable  acts  of  heroism,  of  simple 
mariners. 

Her  topmasts  were  burnt  through.  Her  heavy 
yards,  squared  in  the  Carraca,  Puerto  de  Santa  Maria, 
Rota,  or  in  the  Trocadero,  fell  into  the  sea  with  a  loud 
crash,  and  after  sticking  up  for  a  brief  space,  blackened 
and  burning,  sank  down  into  the  water  and  floated 
alongside  looking  like  maimed  sea-monsters,  as  they 
rose  upon  the  swell.  On  the  high  forecastle  the 
great,  carved  lantern  that  so  long  had  flickered  fitfully 
over  the  waves,  making  the  darkness  even  more 
impenetrable  at  night,  went  up,  consumed  in  a  fierce 
blast  of  flame.  The  masts  sagged,  swayed,  and  then 
fell  overboard  to  join  the  yards.  The  decks  burst 
open,  releasing  a  hurricane  of  fire,  as  if  the  interior  of 
the  ship  had  been  a  solfatara,  belching  out  flames  that 
licked  up  soon  the  standing  rigging  and  the  boats. 

The  seams  all  opened  as  the  fire  gained  on  the 
seasoned  teak,  and  by  degrees  the  vessel  slowly  settled 
by  the  head.  The  castellated  poop,  with  its  carved 
balconies  and  gilded  mouldings,  was  raised  high  in 
the  air.  On  it  still  flew  the  castles  and  the  lions  of 
the  Spains,  defiantly.  A  dense  smoke  slowly  crept 
aft,  shrouding  all  that  remained  of  the  doomed  vessel 
in  its  folds.  Through  it  all  appeared  a  shower  of 
sparks  that  played  an  instant  in  the  tropic  air  as 
fireflies  play  about  a  bush  of  flor  de  la  Habana  and 
fell  into  the  sea  with  a  long  hiss.  Then  with  a 
moaning  sound  the  vessel  lurched  more  forward, 
the  water  crept  up  hungrily,  and  with  a  sigh  she 
dived,  the  blood  and  orange  flag,  tattered  and 
scorched,  disappearing  sullenly  beneath  the  waves. 


140  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Some  wreckage  floated  here  and  there,  a  breeze 
blew  off  the  smoke,  the  sharks  fed  greedily  upon  the 
bodies,  when  lo  !  a  miracle.  Up  from  the  whirl- 
pool that  the  great  ship  had  caused  as  she  went  to 
the  resting-place  of  countless  galleons  and  galeases, 
the  sacred  cases  were  wafted  slowly  to  the  surface 
of  the  waves.  The  tumult  and  confusion  of  the 
water  caused  by  the  sinking  vessel  slowly  was 
appeased.  The  black  dust  floated  away  and  was 
absorbed  into  the  sea.  The  sharks  sailed  off  replete, 
to  their  sea  lairs.  Nothing  was  left  to  mark  the 
tragedy  that  had  been  enacted,  except  a  fleet  of 
nautiluses  hoisting  their  little  sails,  and  the  great 
packing-cases  that  rose  and  fell  upon  the  surge. 
Wonder  of  wonders,  some  invisible  power  aligned 
them  into  the  semblance  of  a  fleet.  It  seemed  they 
understood  what  was  expected  of  them,  or  else  great 
Neptune,  superinduced  by  forces  greater  than  his  own, 
impelled  them  on  their  way.  How  long  they 
wandered  on  the  deep  is  not  within  our  ken ;  but 
what  is  certain,  is  that  they  were  wafted  to  their 
proper  destination  and  went  ashore  upon  the  beach, 
just  underneath  the  walls  of  Cartagena,  and  rested 
from  the  perils  they  had  undergone. 

The  sun  beat  down  upon  them,  whitening  the 
wood  and  cracking  the  dry  boards.  Barnacles 
gathered  on  their  weather  side,  where  the  tide  lapped 
up  and  kissed  them.  Seaweed  attached  itself  to  the 
rough  nails  and  splinters  of  the  cases,  and  now  and 
then  a  flight  of  seagulls  alighted  tenderly  upon  the 
sea-tossed  packages,  resting  a  little,  then  floating  off 
again  to  hang  poised  just  above  the  surf. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  141 

Years  passed,  and  still  no  pious  hand  impelled  by 
a  mysterious  dream  or  vision  came  to  their  rescue. 
People  cantering  on  the  beach  cursed  at  them  volubly 
when  their  horses  shied,  and  sailors  sat  and  smoked  as 
they  gazed  out  to  sea  in  that  eternal  quest  to  which 
long  years  have  trained  their  eyes.  Then  came  some 
merchants,  men  without  imagination,  with  an  eye  to 
the  main  chance.  Opening  the  cases  rudely,  just  as 
if  they  had  contained  mere  merchandise,  they  were 
struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  work.  Thinking 
to  turn  an  honest  penny,  they  embarked  them  on  a 
vessel  bound  to  Spain.  "  The  saints,"  as  a  Protestant 
but  quite  impartial  writer  has  it,  w  still  kept  their 
eyes  on  the  Pope's  ofFering.,,1 

A  gale  arose,  as  might  have  been  expected  in  the 
circumstances,  and  forced  the  vessel  to  put  back.  By 
this  time  the  news  had  reached  the  bishop  and  the 
consistory,  who,  calling  for  the  captain,  offered  to 
buy  the  goods.  He,  though  a  Catholic  Christian, 
refused  to  part  with  them  except  at  such  a  price 
as  was  prohibitory,  for  of  late  years  the  offertory  had 
been  held  in  slight  esteem  in  Cartagena,  although 
the  faith  was  pure.  Sadly  the  bishop  and  his  priests 
returned  to  the  cathedral,  and  the  skipper  put  to  sea. 
Again  a  gale  sprang  up  and  wrecked  his  vessel,  and 
he  and  all  his  crew  went  to  the  fate  appointed  for 
hard  bargainers  and  for  heretics.  This  time  the 
cases  floated  back  at  once,  straight  through  La  Boca 
Chica,  and  came  and  lay  upon  the  beach.  The 
bishop    now   perceived    that    a    third    miracle    had 

1  Albert  Milligan,  "  Adventures  of  an  Orchid- Hunter,"  p.  211 
(London,  1891).  , 


142  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

taken  place,  so  in  procession  the  predestined  work  of 
art  was  taken  up  to  the  cathedral  through  the  glad 
population,  with  incense  and  with  psalms. 

The  offering  of  St.  Peter's  apostolic  vicar  upon 
earth  had  reached  its  destination,  though  cast  upon 
the  waters  for  an  infinity  of  days.  All  was  concluded 
satisfactorily.  In  the  cathedral  stands  the  pulpit, 
erect  and  glorious.  Under  its  canopy  tedious  but 
painful1  preachers  hold  forth  on  due  occasion,  as 
their  congregations  drowse.  No  one,  except  some 
travelling  heretic,  thinks  of  the  perils  that  the  marble 
work  of  art  underwent  upon  its  wanderings  on 
the  seas.  The  congregation,  as  they  perceive  the 
perspiration  trickling  down  the  preacher's  face,  know 
he  is  drawing  to  a  close.  Gradually,  by  ones  and 
twos,  they  all  disperse,  and  when  the  monaguillo 
comes  round  with  the  collecting-box  only  a  few 
beatas  still  remain,  gazing  in  ecstasy  or  pinned  down 
by  rheumatism. 

1  Painful,  in  the  Elizabethan  sense. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

The  celebrated  pulpit  still  remains  as  the  chief  object 
of  Italian  art  in  Cartagena,  and,  with  its  coloured 
marbles  and  figures  raised  in  high  relief,  looks 
curiously  cold  and  lonely  in  the  vast  church  where 
at  last  it  rests  from  all  its  perils  on  the  deep. 

The  town  is  rich  in  churches,  and  perhaps  that  of 
San  Pedro  Claver  is  the  most  interesting.1  Although 
the  architecture  is  that  the  Jesuits  employed  all  over 
the  New  World,  from  the  modest  mission  chapels  in 
San  Antonio  Texas,  in  Arizona,  and  in  Paraguay, 
right  down  to  Chile,  yet  the  Church  of  San  Pedro 
Claver  has  something  different  about  it  from  anv 
church  in  the  Americas.  The  eastern  front  is  made 
of  massive  stone,  brought  from  the  mountains  near 
Turbaco,  and  as  the  church  stands  in  a  square 
hemmed  in  by  houses,  it  has  an  air  as  of  a  church  in 
the  Castiles,  more  homely  and  yet  more  dignified 
than  often  is  the  case  in  South  America.  Two 
square,  squat  towers  flank  the  east  front,  and  over  the 
chief  entrance  is  a  rose  window,  a  detail  of  architec- 

1  The  church  was  founded  in  1 603  by  a  Real  Cedula  of  Philip  III. 
It  was  first  dedicated  to  St.  Ignatius  of  Loyola.  The  body  of  San 
Pedro  Clav6r  is  preserved  and  venerated  in  the  church. 

H3 


144  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

ture  unusual  in  the  Southern  Hemisphere.  In  each 
of  the  side  towers  are  set  two  little  marigold  windows, 
and  the  effect  is  quite  original.  The  building  is  bare 
and  simple ;  but  the  colour  of  the  stone — a  rich,  dark 
brown — gives  it  a  look  of  warmth,  in  the  same  way 
that  the  red  rocks  give  warmth  occasionally  to  the 
drear  landscapes  to  be  seen  in  Iceland. 

The  church  originally  belonged  to  the  Company 
of  Jesus,  an  Order  much  maligned ;  but  one  that,  after 
all,  did  the  best  missionary  work  amongst  the  Indians 
in  America. 

Along  the  bay  stretches  what  is  now  known  as 
the  Parsonage,  most  probably  the  Jesuit  establishment 
of  other  days.  The  city  walls,  running  up  from 
the  water's  edge,  retain  it  on  one  side.  In  front, 
the  Martyrs'  Monument  stands  up,  modern  and  stark, 
with  an  air  of  challenge,  and  a  tall  fan-palm  with  its 
hanging  leaves  serves  as  an  aeolian  harp  to  sing  the 
dirge  of  the  departed  Jesuits,  when  the  soft  breezes 
blow  from  the  Caribbean  Sea. 

Cartagena  was  no  exception  to  the  general 
rule  that  the  patriot  is  the  greatest  enemy  of  the 
patriot,  as  man  is  the  wolf  of  man.  No  greater 
Spanish  patriot  could  well  have  lived  than  General 
Morillo,  who  in  1815  commanded  the  armies  of 
the  King  of  Spain — in  what  is  now  Colombia. 
Staunch  to  his  king,  and  faithful,  bloodstained  and 
cruel,  he  swept  across  the  land,  like  a  destroying 
angel. 

Even  Bolivar  was  not  more  sanguinary,  or  careless 
of  his  life. 

Thus  they  were  both  true  types  of  patriotism, 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  145 

convinced  and  steadfast  in  their  ideas  and  inaccessible 
either  to  fear  or  argument. 

The  Cartagena  martyrs  were  shot  in  1 8 1 6,  by  the 
order  of  the  Viceroy  Montalvo,  after  General  Morillo 
captured  the  town.  Their  leader  was  one  Colonel 
Anguiano. 

This  officer  had  served  in  the  Spanish  army,  and 
having  embraced  the  popular  cause  became  deputy 
for  the  town  of  Tolu.  In  the  Popular  Convention 
he  was  noted  for  his  fervid  advocacy  of  the  cause 
of  liberty.  Such  a  man,  of  course,  had  nothing  to 
hope  for  at  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  and  was 
accordingly  shot  at  once  as  a  traitor,  and  has  since 
been  venerated  as  a  martyr. 

The  church  and  parsonage  and  their  surround- 
ings are  old-world  and  picturesque  ;  but  the  chief 
glory  of  the  shrine  is  in  the  man  whose  name  they 
bear  to-day.  The  Bollandists,  in  their  "Acta  Sanc- 
torum," place  him  "  inter  prastermissos " — why,  is 
best  known  to  themselves.  They  chronicle  his  arrival 
in  the  Indies  in  16 10;  his  death  in  1654.  Pope 
Benedict  XIV.,  by  a  decree,  declared  him  "  possessor 
both  of  the  theological  and  cardinal  virtues  in  an 
heroic  degree."  This  probably  was  the  first  stage 
upon  his  her  aa  astra,  for  it  established  his  beatific 
state. 

When  he  was  canonized  is  not  made  manifest  in 
the  "  Acta  Sanctorum  "  of  the  Bollandists.  America, 
so  far,  has  not  been  too  prolific  in  the  glorious  com- 
pany of  saints — at  least,  of  those  who  have  been  so 
declared  by  Holy  Mother  Church. 

With    the    exception    of  Saint    Rose   of    Lima, 


10 


146  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

few  saints  whose  pilgrimage  on  earth  was  in  the 
Indies  have,  so  to  speak,  got  across  the  footlights 
of  the  Old  World  and  been  accepted  upon  equal 
terms  with  those  who,  by  their  antiquity  or  the 
strange,  cruel  manner  of  their  death,  become  authentic 
in  our  minds.  Saintship,  like  a  knowledge  of  the 
classics,  is  usually  paid  for  in  blood.1  If  not  in 
blood,  most  certainly  by  suffering  and  a  self-denying 
life. 

Although  the  Bollandists,  for  reasons  best  known 
to  themselves,  pretermitted  from  their  history  the 
life  and  miracles  of  San  Pedro  Claver,  it  was  not 
destined  that  they  should  be  lost  to  fame.  In  1653 
a  Life  of  Father  Pedro  Claver  appeared  in  Madrid,  by 
the  Licenciado  Don  Geronimo  Suarez  de  Somoca. 
He  confesses  in  his  prologue  that  he  copied  most 
of  it  from  a  Jesuit  of  Cartagena  de  Indias,  one  Father 
Alonso  de  Andrade,  who  makes  "honourable  mention 
ot  the  heroic  works  done  by  that  servant  of  the 
Lord,  Father  Claver,  upon  the  earth,  and  of  the 
miracles  that  ensued  after  his  translation  to  the  skies." 
This  confession,  so  unusual  amongst  authors  as  to 
be  almost  unique  in  all  our  annals,  does  Father  Suarez 
de  Somoca  the  highest  credit  and  reflects  lustre  on 
our  confraternity.  We  take  our  goods  where  we 
can  find  them,  as  a  general  rule,  and  then,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  adulterer  in  Holy  Writ,  we 
wipe  our  mouths  and  hope  our  deeds  may  never 
see  the  light.  As  Suarez  de  Somoca  gives  the  lead, 
pointing  the  path  to  literary  honesty,  it  would  ill 
befit  a  more  modern  plodder,  by  the  way,  to  leave 
1  "  El  Latin  con  sangre  entra,"  is  a  saying  in  Spanish. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  147 

the  trail  so  boldly  blazed  by  the  honest  Jesuit  upon 
the  via  cruets  of  San  Pedro  Claver.  El  Reverendo 
Padre  Alonso  de  Andrade,  of  the  Company  of  Jesus, 
u  natural  de  Toledo,"  published  his  Life  of  San 
Pedro  Claver  in  Madrid  in  the  year  1667  (con 
privilegio).  It  is  dedicated  to  the  "  Most  Excellent 
Seiior  Padre  Juan  Everardo  Nidhardo,  Inquisidor 
General  of  the  Spains."  In  it  Father  Andrade 
enters  most  fully  into  the  miracles  and  the  ministries 
of  the  life  of  San  Pedro  Claver,  completely  "  wiping 
the  eye "  of  the  Bollandists,  if  one  may  apply  the 
phrase  to  such  a  company  of  reverend  men,  and  thus 
fills  up  a  gap  in  their  great  chronicle  of  the  acts 
of  all  the  saints. 

They  left  him,  as  we  have  seen,  amongst  the 
"  praetermissos,"  preferring,  with  European  prejudice 
and  that  disdain  of  the  Americas  that  the  Americas 
to-day  are  paying  back  with  interest,  to  chronicle 
the  miracles  of  the  most  trifling  European  saint 
in  preference  to  his. 

We  who,  like  Father  Alonso  de  Andrade,  know 
"  those  Indies  "  are  grateful  to  him,  and  Cartagena 
might  well  place  a  tablet  in  the  church  where  the 
saint  ministered  so  long  to  his  historian's  memory. 

Pedro  Claver  was  born  in  Cataluna  at  the  town 
of  Verdii  in  1585.  That  town  is  situated  in  the 
bishopric  of  Solsona,  a  see  probably  as  well  known 
to  the  majority  of  English  readers  as  that  of  Sodor 
and  Man  is  known  in  Spain.  His  family  was 
noble,  and  related  to  the  Counts  of  Benavente.  He 
went  to  school  in  Barcelona,  studying  Latinity  and 
Rhetoric.     Greek  was  not  compulsory,  as  far  as  we 


148  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

know,  but  what  is  known  as  "  la  ciencia  media "  P 
in  common  Spanish  parlance,  probably  prevailed.  He 
speedily  distinguished  himself  in  both  branches  of  his 
studies,  and  was  sent  to  a  superior  college  in  the 
old  town  of  Tarragona.  Here  he  became  a  deacon, 
and  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  his  superiors  having 
perceived  his  worth,  he  was  sent  out  to  Cartagena  as 
a  missionary.  On  his  arrival  he  went  to  Bogota  for  a 
short  interval,  but  soon  returned  to  Cartagena,  where 
he  received  priest's  orders  and  said  his  first  Mass  in  the 
Jesuit  College  about  the  year  1616. 

When  he  had  finished  it  he  took  a  vow  always  to 
say  the  last  Mass  at  the  same  altar  where  he  first 
celebrated.  Until  his  death,  during  the  thirty-seven 
years  that  intervened,  from  that  day  forth  he  always 
kept  his  vow. 

The  missionary  field  was  vast.  Infidels  were  wild 
and  savage  and  lived  apart  in  the  thick  woods.  They 
issued  forth  when  they  perceived  occasion  to  give  the 
crown  of  martyrdom  to  the  incautious  missionary  who 
travelled  without  arms.  The  Spanish  settlers  were, 
as  we  learn,  "lax  and  adulterous/'  Perhaps  the 
softness  of  the  climate  impelled  them  to  the  latter 
failing  of  the  flesh. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  negroes  from  Africa  were 
constantly  arriving  in  the  slave  ships,  ignorant  of 
the  true  faith,  polygamous,  and  sometimes  canni- 
bals.    When   they  arrived   they  naturally  spoke  no 

1  The  saying  goes,  "Pasteles  en  le  pasteleria  y  ciencia  media 
en  la  Compania  (de  Jesus) — i.e.,  "  Cakes  in  the  pastrycook's  and 
ciencia  media  in  the  Company  of  Jesus."  I  leave  to  theologians  the 
exact  translation  of  the  term  "ciencia  media,"  holding  that  the 
world  will  suffer  little  if  they  fail  to  render  it. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  149 

Christian,1  and  so  the  Spaniards  referred  to  them  as 
muzzled.2 

It  consequently  became  the  duty  and  the  pride  of 
San  Pedro  Claver  to  unloose  their  muzzles,  both  of  the 
body  and  the  mind.  We  are  told  that  in  his  life  he 
baptized  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  of  them, 
besides  a  great  quantity  of  Moors,  English,  and  other 
heretics.3  How  he  performed  this  miracle,  for  I  hold 
it  the  chiefest  that  he  wrought,  is  difficult  to  say. 

After  all  is  said,  common  sense  and  faith  are  but 
synonymous.  Faith  usually  finds  out  a  way  to  justify 
itself.  It  may  be  that  San  Pedro  Claver,  who  was  a 
Catalan,  and  the  Catalans  are  the  Scotch  of  Spain, 
resorted  to  the  methods  that  used  to  be  observed  in 
Rome,  when  in  St.  Peter's  the  peasants  thronged  that 
shrine  at  festivals.  A  priest,  with  the  hyssop  fastened 
to  a  cane,  used  to  dispense  the  holy  water,  as  with  a 
fishing-rod.  In  the  same  way,  San  Vicente  Ferrer,  in 
Palma  de  Mallorca,  when  called  upon  to  convert  a 
community  of  Jews  that  still  persisted  in  outraging 
our  faith  by  clinging  to  their  own,  resorted  to  the  use 
of  the  long  cane.  Upon  a  certain  day  he  placed 
himself,  armed  with  his  sacred  cane,  beside  an 
enormous  cauldron  full  of  holy  water.  The  un- 
believers were  mustered  in  the  square.  On  one  side 
stood  the  cauldron  with  the  blessed  water,  on  the 
other  burned  a  bonfire.  Those  who  refused  the 
holy  rite  had  the  alternative  of  passing  through  the 
flames.     None  were  so  unbusinesslike  as  to  refuse  the 


1  Christian  «=  Spanish. 

2  "  Bozales."     "  Bozal  **  is  a  muzzle  in  Spanish. 

8  "  Ademas  de  gran  suma  de  Moros,  Ingleses,  j  otros  hereges." 


ISO  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

sanctifying  water  on  their  brow.  They  lost  their 
faith  to  the  last  man,  but  kept  their  noses,  as  any 
traveller  can  see  who  takes  a  stroll  in  the  dark, 
tortuous  streets  of  "  El  Barrio  de  los  Chuetas  "  down 
to  the  present  day.  San  Pedro  Claver,  however,  did 
not  stop  at  baptism,  after  the  fashion  of  so  many 
missionaries.  As  far  as  in  him  lay  he  tried  to  render 
the  poor  wretches'  lives  more  tolerable,  treating  them 
as  fellow  human  beings  and  ministering  to  their 
wants  in  sickness  and  in  adversity. 

One  of  the  superstitions  that  the  poor  creatures 
had  was  that  they  were  all  to  be  killed  and  their  bones 
ground  down  to  manufacture  gunpowder.  Through 
all  the  horrors  of  the  "  middle  passage,"  this  terror 
used  to  work  upon  their  minds,  and  the  good  Father 
(now  a  saint,  and  most  deservedly)  used  to  go  down 
and  speak  to  them  upon  arrival,  to  comfort  and  dispel 
their  fears.  Had  he  done  nothing  else  he  had 
deserved  his  saintship,  for  the  poor  savages,  torn 
from  their  native  wilds,  confined  below  decks  in  the 
ships,  were  like  wild  animals  in  a  corral,  trembling 
in  every  limb.  When  he  had  calmed  their  fears  he 
used  to  lead  them  all  ashore,  for  they  walked  after  him, 
"  just  as  a  flock  of  sheep  follows  its  shepherd,"  dumb 
and  pathetically,  towards  the  slaughter-house. 

Work  was  their  portion  until  death  released  them 
in  most  cases,  but  in  so  far  as  he  was  able  the  saint 
alleviated  their  lot.  Still,  all  of  his  labours  were  not 
confined  to  materialistic  and  soul-numbing  good 
works.  One  day  a  fellow-labourer  in  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord  came  to  him  in  distress  and  asked  him  his 
advice.     It   seems  that  he  (a  priest)   had   laboured 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  151 

strenuously  with  a  sick  negro,  urging  him  to  accept 
the  rite  of  baptism  and  save  his  perishable  soul.  The 
negro,  who  perhaps  was  a  stout  votary  of  Mumbo- 
Jumbo,  or  a  man  convinced  of  the  efficiency  of 
prayer  at  the  Long  Ju-ju,  had  steadily  declined. 
Nothing  could  move  him  from  the  faith  in  which 
he  had  been  reared.  His  fathers,  so  he  said,  had 
all  died  pagans,  and  he  looked  forward  to  meeting 
them  again  in  the  same  faith  in  which  they  all  had 
died. 

"  San  Pedro  Claver,"  so  says  his  biographer, 
"rushed  quickly  on  his  prey."1  Long  did  the  good 
Father  wrestle  in  prayer  by  the  bedside  of  the  game 
fetish  worshipper,  pouring  in  his  gospel  broadsides 
with  accuracy  and  effect.  As  the  faint  streaks  of  the 
false  dawn  appeared,  and  the  mosquitoes,  sated  with 
blood,  flew  buzzing  off  to  rest,  the  unbeliever  gave  up 
his  false  and  animistic  gods.  With  joy  the  good 
priest  poured  the  soul-saving  water  on  his  head,  and 
in  an  hour  or  two  his  "  soul  gained  heaven."2  In  fact, 
the  operation  was  successful,  but  the  patient  died, 
after  the  saying  current  in  Harley  Street.  One  is 
glad  to  learn  that  the  new  Christian  was  buried  with 
considerable  pomp  and  circumstance.  His  funeral 
cortege  was  headed  by  Father  Claver  in  person,  no 
doubt  contented  with  the  victory  he  had  won  over 
the  powers  of  evil.  With  psalms  they  bore  the 
erstwhile  votary  of  Gri-gri  and  of  Feitico  to  the 
cemetery.  Music  and  lights  accompanied  the  proces- 
sion, and  flowers  were  strewed  upon  his  grave. 

1  "  Corrio  ligero  a  la  presa." 

2  "  Su  alma  gan6  el  cielo." 


152  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Few  negroes  in  Cartagena  have  had  so  fine  a 
funeral,  and  yet  one  almost  wishes  that  the  old  pagan 
had  been  steadfast  to  the  last.  It  is  possible  in  that 
case  that  his  soul  might  not  have  gained  the 
(Christian)  heaven,  but  it  would  have  gone  to 
some  place  or  another  and  joined  his  ancestors. 

I  pass  by,  as  of  little  moment,  as  a  mere  skirmish 
in  the  gospel-field,  the  saint's  conversion  both  of  a 
criminal  and  of  the  executioner  upon  the  scaffold,  for 
executioners  are  almost  always  sentimentalists.  If  it 
were  otherwise  the  criminals  would  have  to  execute 
themselves.  Viewed  rightly,  the  executioner  is  a 
scapegoat,  taking  the  sins  both  of  the  criminal  and  of 
the  judges  on  his  own  head. 

Perhaps  his  greatest  exploit  was  the  conversion 
of  an  archdeacon  from  London,1  a  foeman  worthy  of 
his  steel.  How  two  such  well-matched  protagonists 
met  each  other  is  difficult  to  say,  or  what  was  the 
business  that  brought  the  archdeacon  to  such  a 
distant  place,  so  far  beyond  the  faintest  twinkle  of 
Bow  Bells. 

A  concentration  camp  had  just  been  formed  for 
several  cargoes  of  "black  ivory,"  newly  arrived  from 
Guinea,  and  all  attacked  with  plague.  At  the  same 
time  a  numerous  squadron  of  English  had  arrived, 
and  it  may  well  have  been  that  the  archdeacon 
came  as  chaplain  to  the  fleet.  This  Churchman 
ambulant  was,  we  are  told,  a  man  of  middle-age, 
grey,  and  of  great  authority  amongst  his  fellows.2 
Moreover,  he  was  **  a  great   preacher  and  a  master 

1  "  Un  Arcediano  de  Londres." 

2  "De  gran  autoridad  entre  los  suyos." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  153 

of  the  heresy."1  The  battle  raged  most  furiously,  and 
texts  flew  fast  between  the  two  ;  citations  were 
adduced,  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  were  quoted  and 
duly  twisted  as  either  combatant  lost  or  secured  the 
trick.  At  last,  overcome  either  by  the  climate  or  by 
the  reasoning  and  the  faith  of  Father  Claver,  the 
heretical  archdeacon  laid  down  his  arms  and  turned  a 
Christian.  Great  was  the  joy  in  Cartagena  of  the 
Indies  over  the  one  archdeacon  that  repented. 
Solemnly  the  now  repentant  heretic  was  received  into 
the  fold. 

Whether  he  stayed  in  Cartagena  a  true  son  of  the 
Church,  or  once  again  returned  to  London  to  his 
heresy  and  beer,  we  are  not  told,  for  Father  Andrade  has 
a  knack,  just  like  a  storyteller  in  the  Soco  of  Tangier, 
of  breaking  off  his  narrative  at  the  most  interesting 
point.  True,  he  does  not  come  round  for  a  collection, 
as  do  the  Moors,  before  he  recommences.  Would 
that  he  did,  for  the  fate  of  our  good  countryman,  in 
this  world  and  the  next,  leaves  one  perplexed  and 
even  hesitating. 

After  long  years  of  patient  work  amongst  the 
negroes,  of  daily  visitation  of  the  prisons  and  the 
hospitals,  Father  Claver's  pilgrimage  here  on  earth 
drew  to  a  close.  His  health  had  suffered  much 
by  his  unceasing  labours  in  the  severe  and  burning 
climate  of  Cartagena.  His  sufferings  were  grievous, 
but  he  bore  them  as  uncomplainingly  as  he  had 
borne  the  attacks  of  the  mosquitoes  all  his  life,  for 
it  is  said  he  never  brushed  one  off  either  from 
his  face  or  hands. 

1  "  Gran  predicante  y  maestro  de  la  heregia." 


154  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

On  September  8,  1654,  being  the  day  of  the 
Nativity  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  he  died  like  a  true 
soldier  of  the  Company  of  Jesus. 

His  chiefest  miracle  was  his  self-denying  life. 
Well  is  he  called  the  Apostle  of  the  Negroes,  for  all 
his  life  was  given  to  their  cause.  The  habits  of 
his  life  were  simple,  for  though  he  loved  it  he  would 
listen  to  no  music,  and  never  once  would  walk  upon 
the  walls  to  see  the  vessels  in  the  bay.  He  never 
went  to  theatres  or  to  hear  "  dialogues,"  no  matter 
how  well  acted  or  how  good  they  were,1  nor  would 
he  walk  in  gardens  or  see  interesting  things.  He 
did  not  think  it  right  even  to  listen  to  the  news  from 
Spain,  a  thing,  his  chronicler  observes, "  so  pleasurable 
to  all  who  live  out  in  the  Indies."  To  this  I  too  can 
add  my  testimony,  and  can  imagine  what  he  must 
have  felt  when  a  great  fleet  sailed  in  and  anchored  off 
the  town.  It  is  not  probable  that  Cartagena  will 
produce  another  saint  of  his  calibre,  so  humble  and  so 
self-denying  or  so  devoid  of  pride.  As  we  have  seen, 
he  had  a  short  way  with  a  sceptic,  and  yet  I  trust 
that  it  will  not  be  quite  unpleasing  to  him,  this  brief 
memorial  of  his  miracles  and  work  penned  by  a 
heretic. 

It  pleases  me  to  think  that  his  self-sacrifice  and 
life  of  toil  amongst  the  negroes  was  not  unrecog- 
nized, although  the  recognition  came,  as  recognition 
generally  comes,  a  little  late. 

In  1 85 1  Pius  IX.  beatified  the  saint  of  Cartagena, 
and,    as    with    such    a    man    the    arguments    of  the 


1  « 


Jamas  oy6  comedias  6  dialogos,  por  buenos  que  fuesen. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  155 

Advocatus  Diaboli  could  not  have  been  convincing, 
his  canonization  followed  in  1888  under  Pope 
Leo  XIII. 

Long  before  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  "  noble 
and  loyal  town  "*  had  enshrined  him  in  their  hearts. 

1  "  Noble  y  leal  ciudad."     Most  Spanish  towns  have  their  titles. 
Madrid  is  known  as  "  La  muy  leal,  noble  y  coronada  villa." 


CHAPTER  XV 

If  the  greatest  ecclesiastical  interest  is  concentrated 
round  the  beautiful  old  church  of  San  Pedro  Claver, 
there  are  not  wanting  other  old-world  buildings  in  the 
town.1  Now  turned  to  a  more  pacific  use  (I  think 
a  hard-goods  store  is  situated  in  its  lower  storey),  the 
House  of  the  Inquisition  is  a  fine  monument  of  the 
late  Renaissance  style.  It  stands  in  a  beautifully 
shaded  square  planted  with  palm-trees,  watered  by 
little  rills  in  their  cemented  channels.  In  the  middle 
of  the  square,  upright  and  graceful  on  a  "  llanero  "2 
horse,  his  long  reins  dangling  almost  to  the  ground, 
his  right  hand  pointing  to  the  inaccessible  abode 
of  Liberty  upon  the  highest  summits  of  the  Andes,  a 
perpetual  menace  to  Inquisitions  of  all  sorts,  Bolivar 
rides.  The  fine,  old  house,  with  its  heavy,  carved 
stone  mouldings  above  the  door,  looks  just  like  many 
a  house  of  the  same  period  in  Spain,  especially  like 

1  At  the  time  of  the  desamortization  of  the  convents  many 
churches  and  convents  were  secularized,  including  La  Merced,  San 
Francisco,  La  Vera  Cruz,  Santa  Teresa,  San  Diego,  and  San  Agustin. 
The  Palace  of  Justice  stands  on  the  site  of  the  convent  of  La  Merced. 
A  friend  in  Cartagena  used  to  say,  quoting  a  Mexican  poet,  that  by  a 
stroke  of  irony,  the  new  edifice,  stolen  from  the  Church,  has  "  Palacio 
de  Justicia"  written  on  it  in  letters  of  gold.  "Con  refinada  malicia 
dice  en  letrero  dorado,  el  Palacio  de  Justicia,  y  el  edificio  es  robado." 

2  Llanero — that  is,  from  los  llanos,  the  plains. 

156 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  157 

one  in  the  corner  of  a  little  plaza  in  Valencia  which 
might  have  been  its  prototype. 

Gone  is  the  Green  Cross,  the  ancient  symbol 
of  the  Holy  Inquisition.  No  more  the  inquisitor  sits 
with  his  secret  conclave,  the  forerunner  of  the 
diplomatist  of  modern  days  and  of  the  trade-union 
leader,  who,  both,  like  the  inquisitor,  work  secretly, 
their  wonders  to  perform.  Many  a  relapsed  heretic 
must  have  secured  his  eventual  entry  into  paradise  by 
the  medium  of  the  rack,  in  the  dark  dungeons  where 
now  a  heap  of  rusty  chains,  of  iron  collars,  and 
the  rest  of  the  paraphernalia  of  the  "  faith  "  lie  rotting 
in  the  dark.  One  only  wonders  how  the  Archdeacon 
of  London  escaped  being  translated  to  a  heavenly 
archdeaconry  through  the  dark  vaults  of  the  old  house. 
All  things  considered,  he  was  prudent  to  confess 
himself  a  convert,  for  if,  as  Henry  of  Navarre  said, 
"  Paris  is  worth  a  Mass,"  life  certainly  is  worth 
so  small  a  sacrifice  as  a  mere  change  of  Mass. 

Now,  with  its  massive  door,  its  heavy  balconies, 
and  red-tiled  roof,  the  Casa  de  la  Inquisicion  serves 
at  the  same  time  as  a  memorial  of  old  times 
and  a  good  hardware  store,  and  certainly  is  one 
of  the  finest  medieval  houses  yet  remaining  in  the 
Americas. 

Plaza  succeeds  to  plaza  in  the  curious  old  town, 
and  but  a  step  divides  the  Plaza  de  la  Independencia 
from  that  of  Fernandez  de  Madrid.  In  all  America 
there  is  no  square  more  absolutely  Spanish  than  this. 
The  stuccoed  seats  would  look  at  home  either  in 
Caseriche  or  Andujar,  or  any  other  of  the  decaying 
towns,  either  of  Andalucia  or    Castile.      On    them 


158  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

sit  chattering,  mulata  nurses,  whilst  their  charges  play 
underneath  the  trees.  A  swarthy  half-Indian  soldier 
saunters  up  and  down  smoking  a  cigarette.  The 
milkman  or  the  water-seller  drives  his  donkey,  laden 
with  wooden  barrels  or  with  cans,  in  the  deep, 
sandy  streets  outside  the  iron  railing.  Only  the 
barquillero1  and  the  water-seller,  with  his  harsh  cry 
of  "  Agua-a-a,"  are  absent  to  complete  the  picture. 
The  railings  of  the  square  appear  coeval  with  the 
conquest,  but  then  the  climate  soon  exfoliates  all  iron 
and  makes  it  look  centuries  older  than  in  reality  it  is. 
Six  Cuban  palms,  their  trunks  shiny  and  looking 
like  gigantic  bottles,  rustle  melodiously  over  the  little, 
square  corral,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  where  is 
raised  the  statue  of  Fernandez  de  Madrid,  one  of  the 
Liberators.  Of  all  the  titles  that  mankind  has  in  its 
power  to  bestow,  I  prefer  that  of  Liberator.  Defender 
of  the  Faith  is  mouth-filling,  but  then  the  doubt 
creeps  in :  Which  faith  is  worth  defending  ?  Knight- 
hood and  the  O.B.E.  are  glorious  enough  distinctions ; 
the  Garter  brings  no  damning  merit  in  its  train  ;  and 
all  the  rest,  from  Duke  down  to  Lord  Mayor  and 
Labour  Leader,  have  something  comic  in  their  train ; 
but  yet  mankind  craves  for  them  thirstily.  Liberator 
alone  has  something  in  the  sound  of  it  that  places  it 

1  A  barquillero  is  a  man  who  sells  barquillas,  a  kind  of  crisp 
wafer.  He  carries  them  in  a  tin  vessel  like  a  churn,  slung  over  his 
shoulder.  On  the  top  of  the  churn  is  a  miniature  roulette  table. 
The  barquillero  is  the  delight  of  the  children  in  Spanish  towns. 
Bonafoux,  the  late  Spanish  journalist,  a  man  of  genius,  depicts  his 
meeting  with  a  barquillero  at  Etretat,  who  naturally  spoke  no  French. 
Asked  how  he  had  got  there,  he  answered,  "Sometimes  embarked 
and  sometimes  on  foot."  Where  he  "  embarked  "  heaven  knows. 
He  may  have  applied  the  phrase  to  a  train  journey. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  159 

above  the  realm  of  comedy.  For  one  thing,  the  few 
Liberators  that  the  world  has  known  have  generally 
died  poor  and  despised.  Either  mankind  cannot 
support  the  gift  of  liberty,  or  else  the  Liberators 
have  not  been  fitted  to  survive  in  the  struggle  of  the 
unfit.  That  fact  alone  confers  on  them  a  patent 
of  nobility.  Bolivar,  perhaps  the  greatest  man  that 
all  America,  Spanish  or  English  or  Portuguese,  has 
yet  produced,  died  poor  and  disillusioned  in  the 
curious  old  Spanish  country  house  of  San  Pedro  de 
Alejandria,  a  few  miles  from  Santa  Marta,  just  at  the 
foot  of  the  Andes  that  he  had  crossed  so  many  times 
during  his  struggles  to  emancipate  his  countrymen. 
General  San  Martin  was  laid  to  rest  in  Boulogne,  far 
from  his  exploits  ;  and  so  of  all  the  rest,  with  the 
exception  of  Washington,  who  doubtless  would  have 
shared  the  fate  of  his  compeers  had  not  he  voluntarily 
gone  into  the  seclusion  of  his  Virginian  home.  Thus 
it  is  pleasing  to  reflect  that  the  man  whose  marble 
effigy  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  little  square  that 
bears  his  name,  lived  to  a  hundred  years  of  age,  loved 
and  respected  to  the  end.  It  may  be  that  as  Fernandez 
de  Madrid  was  not  a  soldier,  he  was  immune  from 
that  ferocious  jealousy  that  arms  mankind  against 
its  heroes  in  the  field.  Still,  from  the  first  he  bore 
an  important  part  in  the  long  struggle  against 
Spain,  that  raged  more  furiously  both  in  Colombia 
and  Venezuela  than  anywhere  throughout  the 
continent. 

Half-naked  negro  children  play  round  the  little 
railing  that  surrounds  the  statue,  and  probably  of  all 
the  lounging  population  that  in  the  evening,  when 


160  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  sea  breeze  sets  in,  saunters  about  the  plaza,  only 
a  moiety  have  heard  the  Liberator's  name. 

The  various  plazas,  green  and  shady,  form  as  it 
were  a  series  of  oases  among  the  piles  of  low-browed 
houses,  with  their  overhanging  eaves,  iron-studded 
doors  and  balconies,  with  windows  at  whose  bars 
stand  lovers  whispering  just  as  they  do  in  Spain. 
Most  of  the  streets  run  out  on  one  side  to  the  sea 
through  deep  cuts  in  the  walls,  and  on  the  other  to  a 
cano — that  is,  a  backwater — buried  in  mangrove-trees. 
Only  two  hundred  miles  or  so  away  Colon  and 
Panama,  now  modern  towns  and  "  sanitated,"  enjoy 
good  drainage,  heavy  taxation,  a  fine  supply  of  water, 
with  modern  lighting,  prostitution  at  the  corners  of 
the  streets  at  night,  freedom  from  mosquitoes,  police- 
men, and  all  the  benefits  of  what  is  pleasantly  called 
modern  civilization,  and  have  become  health  resorts 
for  the  wealthy  of  New  York  during  the  winter 
months. 

In  Cartagena  nothing  of  all  this  exists.  Mos- 
quitoes, after  nightfall,  render  night  hideous.  The 
mangrove  swamps  that  stretch  about  the  town  on 
every  side  have  not  been  treated  with  petroleum,  as 
in  Colon  and  Panama.  Water,  though  good,  is  not 
abundant,  drainage  so  primitive  as  to  be  practically 
of  no  avail.  Yet,  such  is  the  way  of  Nature,  and  so 
great  her  absolute  disdain  of  man  and  all  his  fumbling, 
that  Cartagena  is  at  least  as  healthy  as  the  two 
Isthmian  towns.  Wandering  about  the  streets  of 
Cartagena  one  comes  at  unexpected  corners  upon 
long,  sloping  paths  that  lead  out  on  the  walls, 
constructed,  I  suppose,  in  bygone  days  for  the  move- 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  161 

ment  of  artillery  and  troops.  To-day  a  motor-car 
glides  up  them  easily,  and  you  emerge  from  the  heat 
of  the  town,  after  the  struggle  of  the  day  is  over,  when 
the  sea  breeze  sets  in,  into  a  different  world.  The 
palm-trees  bend  under  the  wind,  the  sea  is  ruffled,  and 
a  pinkish  haze  envelops  everything.  The  avenues 
that  lead  on  one  side  up  to  the  suburb  of  Manga, 
and  on  the  other  to  El  Cabrero,  are  planted  with  the 
Ponctana  Regia,  whose  bunches  of  bright  scarlet 
flowers,  two  feet  in  length,  are  full  of  fireflies,  and 
the  white  villas,  buried  in  the  thickets  of  bananas, 
gleam  out  behind  their  leaves.  Everyone  breathes 
afresh,  and  motors  steal  about  noiselessly  upon  the 
sandy  roads.  The  little  church  at  El  Cabrero,  built 
to  commemorate  President  Nunez,  a  son  of  Cartagena, 
looks  so  like  a  mosque  in  the  fast  falling  light,  one 
waits  involuntarily  for  the  Call  to  Prayer  when  walk- 
ing on  the  walls. 

A  mile  or  two  away  the  hill  crowned  by  the 
Convent  of  La  Popa  takes  on  a  look  as  of  Vesuvius, 
conelike  and  isolated.  Then  is  the  time  to  drive  out 
to  La  Boca  Grande  and  take  whatever  air  is  to  be 
found.  Passing  through  the  negro  quarter,  not  much 
unlike  a  village  near  Accra  or  Jella-Coffee,  with  its 
long  streets  of  shanties  where  naked  negro  children 
play  with  mangy  dogs,  their  parents  sitting  at  their 
doors  with  chairs  well  tilted  back,  you  come  out  on 
a  little  plain.  Palm-trees  surround  it,  and  lagoons 
bisect  it  here  and  there.  In  a  depression  in  the 
ground  all  the  tin  pots  and  cans  of  Cartagena  are 
thrown  out,  and  in  them  lizards  innumerable  have 
made  their  lairs.     Vessels  for  domestic  use  are  there 

ii 


1 62  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

by  hundreds,  so  that  the  place  may  well  be  styled  the 
valley  of  the  jordans,  to  use  a  Georgian  phrase. 

After  this  interlude,  that  brings  back  civilization  so 
vividly  before  one's  eyes,  the  road  towards  La  Boca 
Grande  runs  between  palm  woods,  till  it  comes  out 
upon  the  shore.  Before  emerging  from  the  woods 
the  palm-trees  disappear,  and  on  the  sandhills  clumps 
of  icaco  bushes,  called  in  Colombia  "uvas  de  playa," 
form  a  thick  underwood.  Among  them  negresses  sit 
patiently  waiting  for  holes  dug  in  the  sand,  known  as 
"  cacimbas,"  to  fill  with  drinking  water.  Though 
dug  often  but  fifty  feet  away  from  the  salt  water,  they 
are  always  fresh.  Good  water  in  the  tropics  has  an 
irresistible  charm  about  it,  and  thirst  is  permanent, 
so  that  when  a  negro  girl  advances  with  a  gourd  and 
offers  it,  fanning  herself  with  a  piece  of  palm  leaf,  you 
drink,  and  if  you  do  not  necessarily  admire — "  Drink 
and  admire,"  so  runs  the  legend  on  the  fountain  in 
Marrakesh1 — you  yet  are  grateful  and  reflect  how  many 
times  the  conquerors  must  have  drunk  thankfully 
at  the  same  water-holes.  The  land  that  forms  a 
natural  breakwater  to  the  bay  runs  out  in  a  long  spit. 
On  one  side  is  a  ruined  castle  with  its  walls  and 
counterscarps.  Upon  the  other  an  inimitable  view  of 
Cartagena ;  but  a  Cartagena  sublimated  and  softened 
in  the  sea  haze.  The  walls  and  churches,  castles,  and 
low,  flat  houses,  rising  tier  by  tier,  are  blended  into  an 
harmonious  whole  ;  the  fringe  of  palm-trees  looks 
mysterious  in  the  failing  light ;  the  city,  as  by  degrees 
the  darkness  thickens  and  the  moon  rises,  lies  out 
enchanted  and  enchanting,  as  if  cut  out  of  cardboard, 
1  "  Shrab-u-shuf." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  163 

in  the  blue,  tropic  night.  No  sound  is  heard  but  the 
caressing  swishing  of  the  waves  falling  on  the  beach, 
and,  as  the  soft  breeze  brings  new  life  and  freshness  to 
the  world,  you  feel  inclined  to  stay  for  ever  listening 
to  the  sea  and  probably  would  do  so  were  it  not  for 
the  mosquitos'  warning,  shrill  and  menacing. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Nothing  could  well  be  more  unlike  the  steamers  of 
the  Great  White  Fleet,  as  the  Americans  delight  to 
call  the  fruit  boats  that  ply  between  New  York  and 
Santa  Marta,  taking  bananas  from  Puerto  Limon, 
Jamaica,  and  the  other  ports  of  the  Caribbean  Sea, 
than  the  old  Lancha  Bufalo. 

On  the  one  side  all  modern  luxury :  fans,  ice,  and 
negro  servants,  Maimey  and  Belle  and  Sadey  in  their 
smart    clothes   from    Little     Old    Noo    York,    and 
millionaires  passing  the  winter  in  the  West  Indies, 
contemptuous  of  everyone  who  is  not  rich.     Humanity 
with  them  commences  at  the  million  (dollars),  just  as 
in  Austria  in  the  old  days  it  started  with  the  baron  : 
the  rest   are  pawns.      Perhaps  when  all  is   said  the 
"  baron  "  was  nearer  to  a  human  being,  in  manner 
and  sympathy,  than  is  the  dollar-gatherer.     Morals,  of 
course,  are  as  mankind  chooses  to  see  them,  and  in 
this  respect  I  fancy  that  the  difference  between  the 
types  is  small.     On    board    the    fruit    boats  all  was 
republican  and  democratic,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
copybook    headings   rife    in   North    America.       In 
reality  nothing  was  farther  from  democracy,  just  as  is 
the  case  in  New  York,  Chicago,  or  any  other  city  of 
the  States. 

164 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  165 

The  Lancha  Bufa/o,  though  in  design  she  looked 
like  an  old  barge,  was  driven  by  a  wheezy  motor- 
engine.  So  progress  and  the  past  seemed  to  have 
kissed  each  other  on  the  crank  vessel,  after  the 
fashion  of  mercy  and  of  truth,  though  with  as  scant 
results. 

Her  passengers  were  certainly  sons  apart  from 
those  of  the  fruit  boats  in  aspect  and  in  their  point 
of  view.  Neither  more  merciful  nor  just  than  were 
their  brethren  in  the  Lord  of  the  more  ambitious 
craft,  they  yet  were  much  more  human,  kindly,  and 
far  less  hypocritical.  Good  manners  kept  them  men, 
whilst  not  removing  them  too  far  from  the  other 
animals  that  tread  the  earth  and  breathe  the  air  with 
us,  and  without  whose  co-operation  in  the  Creator's 
scheme  of  things  we  should  soon  cease  to  be. 

Through  a  hole  roughly  cut  in  the  old  city  walls 
you  passed  on  to  a  wharf,  ragged  and  dirty  and 
sweltering  in  the  sun. 

On  it  was  crowded  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  people 
sufficient  to  have  filled  the  Lancha  Bufa/o  a  hundred 
times  or  more  if  they  had  all  been  passengers. 
However,  in  Colombia,  as  in  Spain,  a  railway-station 
or  a  station  platform  or  a  steamer  wharf  is  a  sort  of 
agora  on  which  as  many  of  the  population  as  can  find 
room  upon  it  delight  to  loiter  and  to  criticize,  to  pass 
the  time  of  day,  or  bid  farewell  to  friends  in  tearful 
accents,  however  short  the  voyage.  It  is  too  hot  in 
Cartagena  for  girls  of  the  lower  middle  classes  to 
stand  about  as  they  do  at  a  southern  Spanish  railway- 
station,  their  faces  white  with  powder,  and  carnations 
in  their  hair.    Moreover,  in  old-fashioned  towns  such  as 


1 66  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Cartagena,  girls  do  not  go  about  alone.  No  water-seller, 
as  in  the  East  and  Spain,  slips  in  and  out  amongst  the 
crowd.  Such  customs  are  for  hot,  but  not  for  torrid 
countries,  at  least  in  the  Americas.  It  is  too  hot  for 
fruit-sellers  at  the  time  the  Lancha  Bufalo  used  to  put 
out  to  sea.  Faith  in  the  stability  of  institutions  in  the 
"  loyal  and  noble "  town  of  Cartagena  tells  me  she 
still  casts  off  at  three  o'clock  precisely,  at  the  hottest 
hour  of  the  whole  torrid  day. 

The  Lancha  Bufalo  boasted  two  cabins,  mere 
wooden  boxes  with  a  framework  for  a  bed,  and  a 
rusty,  tin-enamelled  washing-basin  stuck  in  a  shaky 
stand.  Such  as  they  were,  they  represented  luxury 
and  were  usually  engaged  "  with  anticipation/'  as  runs 
the  Spanish  phrase.  Once  inside  them  you  could  lay 
the  bedding,  without  which  no  one  leaves  his  house 
throughout  Colombia,  upon  the  wooden  frame. 
The  bedding  was  a  simple  matter  that  everyone  could 
easily  take  up  and  walk  with,  consisting  of  a  piece  of 
matting,1  a  pillow,  blanket,  and  a  mosquito  curtain. 
This  with  your  saddle  gear  and  "  gripsack  "  made  a 
tolerable  bed.  From  this  coign  of  luxury  and  comfort 
you  could  survey  the  deck  of  the  little  vessel  piled 
high  with  luggage,  and  with  a  moving  mass  of 
people,  a  complete  microcosm  of  the  republic.  The 
crew  were  negroes  from  Jamaica,  the  engineer  a 
Dutchman  from  Curacao,  the  captain  a  Colombian 
who  I  think  had  been  a  storekeeper  and  an  apothecary, 

1  The  piece  of  matting,  six  feet  by  three,  was  Japanese,  and  after 
paying  freight  and  customs  from  Japan,  was  sold,  I  presume  at  a 
profit,  for  two  dollars  (gold)  in  Cartagena.  The  same  matting  made 
in  the  country,  though  more  durable  and  of  better  design,  cost  five  or 
six  dollars. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  167 

before  he  went  down  to  the  sea  in  ships.  Just  as  in 
the  accounts  of  the  early  Spanish  navigators,  the  pilot 
was  the  chief  man  on  the  vessel,  for  it  is  doubtful  if 
anyone  but  he  had  but  the  most  elementary  ideas  of 
seamanship.  Little  by  little,  as  the  Bufalo  moved  out 
and  met  the  invigorating  breeze  that  about  four 
o'clock  generally  springs  up  from  the  sea  on  the 
Colombian  coast,  the  heterogeneous  mass  of  passengers 
evolved  from  a  kaleidoscopic  mass  of  white-clothed 
men,  of  draggled  women,  all  mixed  up  with  bales 
and  packages  upon  the  little  deck,  into  its  component 
parts.  Then  individuals,  such  as  the  portly  Syrian 
merchant  going  to  Quibdo,  the  cattleman  from  the 
Sinii,  with  his  tight  linen  trousers  and  his  flat  hat  made 
of  dark-coloured  straw,  his  right  hand  carried  with  the 
palm  turned  out  and  thumb  held  upwards  from 
constant  lassoing,  contrasted  strangely  with  the  smart 
Colombian  officer  in  his  spotless,  white  duck  uniform. 
All  these  wore  the  large  round  spectacles  made  of  cellu- 
loid to  look  like  tortoise-shell,  with  yellowish  glasses, 
that  every  American,  and  hence  most  of  the  Colom- 
bians, who  chiefly  have  been  educated  in  the  States, 
affect  upon  a  voyage.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  in 
Spain,  those  kind  of  spectacles  were  called  "  quevedos," 
after  the  poet  of  that  name,  whose  effigy  (spectacles 
and  all)  Velazquez  has  preserved  for  us  in  his  realistic 
paint.  The  effect  when  many  of  these  spectacled 
citizens  is  seen  'at  the  same  time  resembles  that  of  an 
assemblage  of  owls,  all  blinking  in  the  sun. 

We  passed  into  a  narrow  passage  between 
mangrove  swamps,  called  in  Colombia  a  "  cano,"  and 
took  on  board  some   sort  of  cargo  at  a  little  place 


1 68  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

called  Pasacaballos,  a  negro  village,  as  African  in  its 
appearance  as  if  it  had  been  on  the  Niger  or  the  oil 
rivers.  Why  the  conquistadores,  for  it  was  they 
who  named  the  place,  so  called  it,  it  is  difficult  to 
understand.  A  long  experience  in  passing  horses 
across  rivers  has  always  made  me  look  for  a  place  where 
the  animals  can  enter  and  can  leave  the  water  upon 
solid  ground.  Certainly  in  the  little  open  space 
before  the  huts — perhaps  the  natives  dignify  it  under 
the  title  of  a  "  plaza " — the  sand  is  hard  enough. 
Upon  the  other  side  there  is  nothing  but  a  swamp. 
In  countries  like  Colombia  there  is  a  tendency  to  date 
all  history  from  the  year  of  independence,  and  thus 
most  interesting  place-names  become  quite  meaning- 
less, sometimes  impossible  to  explain.1  Luckily  the 
contemporary  historians  of  the  conquest  were  minute 
in  all  they  chronicled,  and  a  search  in  their  pages 
often  clears  up  points  long  forgotten  and  fallen  into 
neglect.  Spanish  Americans  have  retained  much  of 
their  far-away  Arabian  ancestors,  who,  of  all  men, 
soonest  forget  what  happened  yesterday. 

We  took  in  a  few  bales  and  packages  wrapped  in 
banana  leaves,  and  watched  a  negro  bathing  his  horse, 
a  job  that  he  performed  standing  stark-naked  like  a 
statue  cast  in  bronze,  and  pouring  water  with  a  calabash 
over  the  horse's  back.  The  horse  appeared  to  like  it, 
for  he  stood  quietly  enough,  and  for  the  negro  the 
fact  that  all  the  passengers  were  looking  at  him  not 

1  Thus  names  such  as  "  los  ballesteros  "  (the  crossbowmen),  "  frayle 
muerto"  (the  dead  friar),  "Fray  Bentos  "  (the  name  of  an  anchorite), 
and  many  others,  have  lost  their  original  significance;  most  of  them 
sprang  out  of  some  incident  of  the  conquest. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  169 

twenty  yards  away,  apparently  was  just  as  little  in- 
convenience to  him  as  it  would  have  been  centuries 
ago  to  his  wild  ancestors  upon  the  Guinea  Coast  or 
in  the  Cameroons. 

Dinner  was  served  upon  the  deck,  the  captain,  so 
to  speak,  in  the  chair,  perspiring,  but  polite,  eager  to 
talk  what  he  called  "  American,"  having  "  learned  him 
in  the  college  to  Philadelphia,  where  I  pass  a  year." 

As  he  essayed  this  idiom,  which  in  his  mouth 
became  a  sort  of  pidgin-English,  raucous  and  shotted 
plentifully  with  slang,  he  became  an  ordinary,  not  to 
say  vulgar  specimen,  of  a  commonplace  American,  but 
changed  at  once  into  a  courteous,  well-bred  Colombian, 
in  his  own  native  speech.  After  a  meal  of  rice  and 
beef;  of  plantains  stewed  and  roasted,  boiled  and  raw ;  of 
Indian  corn  bread  called  "  bollo,"  x  baked  in  banana 
leaves,  viscous  and  white ;  of  excellent  black  coffee,  and 
fruits  preserved  in  syrups,  and  after  a  contemplative 
smoke,  watching  the  Southern  stars,  each  one  retired 
to  find  a  sleeping-place. 

Some  lay  down  on  their  blankets  behind  the  deck- 
house, others  in  the  boat,2  whilst  we  retired  to  what  I 
think  were  called  "  los  camarotes  de  preferencia," 
thinking  that  we  should  rest.  By  this  time  the 
Bufalo  had  passed  the  great,  land-locked  lagoon  that 
stretches  out  after  the  cano,  and  got  into  the  open  sea. 
It  was  a  night  such  as  exists  but  in  those  latitudes, 
serene  and  beautiful,  with  every  star  mirrored  in  the 

1  See  Chapter  III. 

2  There  was  only  one,  and  it  was  half  full  of  vegetables.  For 
about  seventy  passengers  there  were  three  or  four  lifebelts,  so  that  in 
case  of  accidents,  even  if  the  sharks  were  left  out  of  the  reckoning, 
the  calling,  if  not  the  election,  of  most  of  us  would  have  been  assured. 


170  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

water  and  reflected  back  as  in  a  looking-glass.  The 
vessel  left  a  golden  trail  behind  her  in  the  soft 
moonlight,  and  from  the  land  there  came  a  breeze 
laden  with  the  scent  of  tropic  vegetation.  Such  nights 
the  early  navigators  must  have  known,  and  probably 
upon  the  fateful  second  watch,  when  from  La  Pintas 
shrouds  the  sailor *  saw  the  light  on  Guanahani,  it  was 
iust  as  entrancing  and  as  beautiful. 

Nothing  is  permanent  in  life,  and  weather  still 
less  permanent  upon  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Expecting 
to  pass  several  hours  at  rest,  I  closed  the  door  of  my 
"  preference  cabin,"  and  after  having  placed  my 
pillow  in  the  hollow  between  the  cantle  and  the  horn 
of  the  high-peaked  saddle,  soon  fell  asleep.  It  was 
not  destined  I  should  sleep  for  long,  for  as  we  neared 
the  Point  of  Tigua,  where  the  old  Santa  Barbara2, 
so  nearly  left  her  rotten  timbers  and  her  rusty  engines, 
a  sea  sprang  up  so  fierce  and  short,  that  except  once, 
upon  a  trip  down  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Achafalaya  to  Matamoros,  I  never  saw 
the  like.  The  first  buck  (so  to  speak)  got  my  head 
clear  of  the  saddle,  and  then  for  two  long  hours  the 
Bufalo  knocked  about  furiously.  How  the  men 
in  the  engine-room  stuck  to  their  duty  is  a  marvel  to 
me,  and  how  the  wretched  passengers  upon  the  deck 
were  not  all  washed  away,  a  greater  marvel.  As  for 
myself,  when  after  getting  round  the  point  the  sea 
as  suddenly  went  down,   the   moon   shone   out,  the 

1  Some  of  the  early  historians,  and  I  think  Pedro  Martir  de 
Angleria  amongst  them,  say  that  Columbus  himself  first  descried  the 
coast.  I  hope  it  was  so,  for  the  remembrance  of  it  must  have  made 
his  chains  easier  to  bear  in  after  years.  » 

2  See  Preface. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  171 

stars  again  beamed  down,  sending  long  shafts  of  light 
into  the  tranquil  sea,  I  was  as  bruised  and  sore  as  I 
have  ever  been  on  getting  off  a  "  bronco,"1  or  emerging 
from  a  football  scrimmage  in  my  youth.  The  vessel 
doubled  a  little  headland,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
dropped  her  anchor  in  a  harbour  that  in  the  moon- 
light looked  as  if  it  was  a  port  in  some  enchanted 
archipelago  in  the  South  Seas.  Only  the  outline 
of  a  scarce  visible  and  sleeping  town  was  to  be  seen, 
set  in  a  grove  of  palms.  Long  did  the  Bufalo 
scream  on  her  whistle  fruitlessly.  Nothing  was 
stirring.  Suddenly,  just  as  the  moon  began  to  set,  an 
hour  or  two  before  the  dawn,  two  long,  dug-out 
canoes  appeared  as  it  were  from  nowhere,  and  paddled 
alongside.  A  gentle  but  sufficient  swell  was  rolling 
shoreward,  and  in  it  the  long,  crank  canoes  rose  and 
fell  gently,  looking  like  gigantic  fish.  Carefully,  in 
the  increasing  darkness,  we  piled  our  saddles  in  one  of 
them,  and,  holding  gingerly  to  each  side  of  the  canoe, 
set  off  toward  the  shore.  It  seemed  a  desperately  long 
way  off,  and  the  huge,  black,  triangular  fins  that  rose 
occasionally  close  to  the  gunwale  were  not  exactly 
reassuring  to  people  not  accustomed  to  canoes. 

The  paddlers  now  and  then  would  point  to  one  of 
the  great  fish  as  it  turned  up  a  little,  its  belly  shining 
silvery  in  the  pale  starlight,  and  remark  cheerfully, 
"  That  is  a  tiger ;  he  always  hangs  about  us  as  we  go 
to  and  fro."  After  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  that   felt  three  times  as   long,   a    broken    pier 

1  Bronco=wild  horse.  The  word  in  Spanish  means  "rough." 
It  is  usually  spelled  by  Englishmen  and  Americans  "  broncho,"  for 
reasons  known  (perhaps)  to  themselves. 


172  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

seemed  to  rise  suddenly  out  of  the  sea.  The  steps 
that  led  down  to  the  water  were  all  broken,  covered 
with  seaweed,  and  slippery  as  glass.  To  negotiate 
a  landing  was  a  feat  of  equilibrium,  rendered  exciting 
by  the  thought  that,  though  unseen,  the  "  tiger  "  was 
probably  upon  the  watch.  Once  on  the  surface  of 
the  pier,  the  air  felt  like  a  furnace,  and  the  short 
distance,  two  hundred  yards  or  so,  carrying  one's 
saddle  in  the  dark,  stepping  over  broken  planks — for 
the  pier  had  certainly  never  been  repaired  since  it  was 
built — bathed  one  in  perspiration,  so  that  our  entry  to 
the  historic  city  of  Tolu,  the  erstwhile  capital  of  the 
old  Spanish  settlement,  was  an  experience  I  like 
to  think  of,  but  should  not  care  to  have  to  undergo 
again. 

Except  the  paddlers  and  a  half  Indian,  dressed 
in  white,  but  with  a  cap  bound  with  gold  lace 
to  show  he  was  the  captain  of  the  port,  all  the  world 
was  asleep.  We  beat  upon  the  door  of  the  locked-up 
customs-house,  eager  to  pay  to  the  Colombian  Caesar, 
whatever  might  be  due.  Then,  finding  all  our  efforts 
vain,  we  crossed  the  wide,  sandy  street  to  a  wooden 
edifice  labelled  "  Hotel,"  and  finding  no  response  from 
anyone,  no  matter  how  we  knocked,  untied  our  beds 
and  saddles,  hitched  our  mosquito  curtains  to  the 
veranda  posts,  and  stretched  ourselves  upon  the  floor. 
I  remember  looking  for  a  little  at  the  fireflies  flitting 
about  the  bushes,  and  listening  to  a  monkey  roaring 
in  the  woods  that  lie  all  around  the  town,  and  then 
waking  as  it  seemed  directly,  to  find  the  sun  shining 
upon  my  face,  and  a  grave  Indian  leaning  against  the 
railing    of  the  veranda    watching   me    silently.      As 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  173 

I  awoke  he  took  his  hat  off,  and  after  long  and 
courteous  salutations,  in  which  he  asked  me  how 
I  had  passed  the  night,  and  how  I  liked  Tolu,  he 
said  Don  Julian  Patron  (to  whom  I  had  a  letter)  was 
expecting  us,  and  that  he  hoped  we  should  honour 
his  poor  dwelling  that  was  quite  at  our  service, 
during  our  sojourn  in  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  ancient  and  hereditary  house  of  Don  Julian 
Patron  was  seated  commodiously,  just  at  the  corner 
of  the  plaza  of  the  town.  One  of  those  solid,  Spanish 
houses,  so  frequent  in  Colombian  towns,  it  had  a  sort 
of  old-world  dignity.  Not  that  it  displayed  any 
special  architectural  features,  but  it  had  that  air  of 
being  built  for  somebody,  and  not  run  up  for  anyone 
to  live  in,  that  characterizes  all  Spanish  houses  in 
America.  It  followed  the  almost  universal  plan  of 
such  kind  of  houses,  being  low  and  long,  with  lengths 
of  wall  that  gave  it  somehow  a  conventual  air.  The 
patio  led  into  a  garden,  and  under  a  sort  of  loggia, 
sitting  in  his  hammock  drinking  the  strong  black 
coffee  sweetened  with  "panela,"1  that  all  the  world 
drinks  in  Colombia,  we  found  Don  Julian  waiting  to 
welcome  us.  He  rose  and  offered  us  his  house,  just 
glancing  at  the  letter  we  had  brought  to  see  the 
signature.  "  Anyone  that  my  good  friend  Don 
Eustaquio  commends  to  me,  is  welcome."  He  clapped 
his  hands  and  a  little  negro  girl  appeared  with  coffee 

1  Panela  is  unrefined  sugar,  and  is  used  in  most  of  the  re- 
publics under  varying  names.  The  Brazilians  call  it  "  rapadura  " 
and  the  Mexicans  "pilon."  It  is  usually  done  up  in  maize  or 
banana  leaves  in  a  sort  of  cake.  In  summer,  melted  in  water,  it 
makes  an  excellent  "  refresco." 

174 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  175 

and  sweet  cakes,  exactly  like  the  cake  the  Moors  offer 
you  on  similar  occasions  in  Morocco,  upon  a  silver 
tray. 

My  host  was  not  a  common-looking  man.  His 
manners,  though  off-hand,  were  courteous  and  befitting 
to  a  man  who  evidently  passed  his  life  on  horseback, 
for,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old,  his  flocks  and  herds 
were  his  chief  source  of  revenue  and  pride.  Sturdy 
and  strongly  built,  his  olive-coloured  face  tanned  a 
rich  brown  by  sun  and  weather,  his  legs  a  little  bowed 
with  riding,  his  thick,  grey  hair  a  perfect  fell,  but 
shortly  cropped  upon  his  neck,  he  wanted  but  a 
helmet  on  his  head  to  look  a  veritable  conquistador. 
His  hands  were  muscular  and  brown,  his  feet  small 
and  well  shaped,  but  rather  square,  as  is  so  often  seen 
in  men  of  Spanish  blood.  His  manner,  though 
courteous  in  the  extreme,  was  that  of  one  who 
thought  himself  the  equal  of  any  man  on  earth  (not 
his  superior),  and  you  felt  his  courtesy  sprang  from 
the  right  motive  of  all  courtesy — his  innate  self- 
respect.  Long  did  we  talk  on  things  and  others,  as 
the  saying  goes,  the  war  and  all  that  it  had  brought 
into  the  world  and  taken  out  of  it,  as  we  sat  in  our 
hammocks,  keeping  them  swinging  with  one  toe,  and 
drinking  coffee,  as  we  whiled  the  time  away  till  break- 
fast should  be  brought.  When  it  was  announced  it 
appeared  that  several  notables  had  been  asked  to  do 
us  honour,  and  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  no  doubt,  for 
in  the  city  of  Tolu  foreigners  are  not  an  everyday 
occurrence,  and  more  especially  when  they  appear 
with  even  such  a  slight,  official  stamp  as  I  then 
happened  to  possess.     In  South  America,  just  as  in 


176  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  East,  talents,  even  wealth  itself,  to  which  in 
Europe  we  all  bow  the  knee,  are  held  but  slightly  in 
comparison  with  governmental  rank.  That  opens 
every  door  to  the  possessor  of  it,  and  smooths  all 
difficulties,  or  a  good  many  of  them. 

Our  talk  ran  not  on  governmental  matters,  but 
luckily  upon  more  serious  things — the  price  of  cattle, 
the  best  breeds  with  which  to  cross  the  native  stock, 
and  the  best  ports  from  which  to  ship  the  produce  of 
the  packing-house,  that  all  the  guests  had  heard  the 
British  Government  was  going  to  erect.  As  all  the 
other  guests  were  cattle-owners,  except  an  educated 
young  Italian,  who  had  drifted  to  the  town  and  set 
up  as  a  land-surveyor,  and  knew  as  little  about  cattle- 
raising  as  the  others  knew  about  his  mystery,  he 
naturally  felt  at  sea,  and  after  trying  vainly  to 
comprehend  our  jargon  about  Herefords  and  Angus, 
Shorthorns  and  Zebus,  sat  silent  smoking,  now  and 
then  muttering  "  barbari "  in  an  undertone. 

Tolu  does  not  afford  much  scope  for  sightseeing, 
so  after  breakfast  all  retired  to  pass  the  siesta  in  their 
hammocks  till  it  was  cool  enough  to  start  upon  our 
ride,  twelve  miles  or  so  along  the  beach,  to  see  a  little 
port  from  which  in  former  days  cattle  had  been  shipped 
to  the  West  Indies  and  the  United  States.  Our  ride 
lay  along  the  seacoast  bordered  by  palm-trees,  and 
now  and  then  by  jungle,  so  thick  it  seemed  a  wall  of 
vegetation.  Numberless  little  streams  ran  from  the 
woods  down  to  the  beach,  all  forming  quicksands  in 
which  the  horses  sank  up  to  their  hocks,  and  every 
rivulet  had  its  bar  in  miniature,  causing  a  little  surf, 
with    tiny  rollers,  setting    in   regularly  towards   the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  177 

shore.  Above  the  jungle  rose  high  trees,  covered 
with  purple,  yellow,  or  red  flowers,  whilst  the 
lianas,  clasping  them  like  ivy  in  their  folds, 
struggled  towards  the  light  and  crowned  the  trees 
with  bunches  of  great  blossoms,  so  that  it  was  not 
easy  to  make  out  whether  the  flowers  sprang  from 
the  tree  or  from  the  parasite.  We  followed  a  deep 
bay,  so  that  although  in  an  hour's  riding  we  saw  the 
point  towards  which  we  travelled,  sunset  was  near 
before  we  passed  the  Punta  de  Piedras  and  found 
ourselves  inside  a  smaller  bay,  sheltered  by  headlands 
that  made  it  almost  land-locked  and  calm  as  a  lagoon. 
Don  Julian,  who  had  been  riding  upright  and  grave  as 
a  statue,  suddenly  put  his  horse  into  a  fast  pace,  and 
pointing  with  his  whip  to  a  low  house  buried  in 
coco-palms,  said,  "That  is  '  La  Hacienda  de  la  Punta 
de  la  Madre  de  Dios,'  my  house  and  yours.  Spur  on 
and  let  us  drink  some  cool  milk  from  the  green 
ccco-nuts  before  the  sun  has  set." 

His  lively  little  grey  struck  into  such  a  furious 
"  sobre-paso  " *  that  we  had  to  gallop  to  keep  beside 
him,  and  with  the  heat  and  the  spray  from  the  surf, 
beside  which  we  rode  so  closely  that  sometimes  it 
washed  up  nearly  to  the  horses'  knees,  we  might  as 
well  have  plunged  into  the  sea.  A  last  stream  had  to 
be   negotiated   before   we   reached   the  house.     Don 

1  The  sobre-paso  is  an  artificial  gait  that  used  to  be  known  to 
the  horsemen  of  the  Middle  Ages  as  the  over-pace.  In  it  the  horse 
trots  with  the  hind  legs  and  gallops  with  the  fore.  It  is  extremely 
easy,  and  Don  Juan's  grey  could  easily  make  nine  miles  an  hour  at  it 
and  keep  it  up  all  day.  All  the  horses  of  Colombia,  Costa  Rica,  and 
generally  throughout  Central  America  and  the  north  of  South 
America,  are  trained  either  to  it  or  one  of  the  other  various  artificial 
gaits. 

12 


178  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Julian  went  first,  his  heavy  mule  spurs  playing 
ceaselessly  upon  his  horse's  flanks,  for  pacers  always 
must  be  kept  up  to  their  pace,  to  show  the 
ford.  Luckily  it  was  not  very  deep,  and  with  a 
struggle  through  the  quicksand  on  the  far  side  we 
emerged  upon  hard  ground.  A  quarter  of  a  mile 
away  stood  the  hacienda  house.  Riding  up  to  the 
door,  we  found  the  occupant  stretched  in  his 
hammock,  from  which  he  got  up  lazily,  and,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand,  bid  his  employer  welcome,  and 
called  up  several  peons  to  take  our  horses.  Then 
with  the  air  of  a  man  ordering  a  cocktail,  he  said, 
"  You  will  drink  a  coco-nut  or  two  after  your 
ride." 

An  Indian  boy,  at  a  signal  from  him,  walked 
quickly  up  a  tall  palm-tree,  with  as  little  effort  as  if 
he  had  been  going  up  a  stair,  and  threw  some  nuts 
down  on  the  sand.  One  of  the  peons  cut  them  open 
on  his  hand,  a  conjuring  trick  that  he  performed  with 
a  machete  nearly  three  feet  in  length.  They  were 
as  cool  as  if  they  had  been  grown  under  a  jungle,  and 
not  been  baking  all  the  day  under  a  tropic  sun.  We 
had  passed  no  other  house  upon  the  ride  of  twelve  or 
thirteen  miles,  and  the  hacienda,  just  at  the  point  of 
the  deep  bay,  buried  in  palm  woods,  and  not  fifty 
yards  from  the  seashore,  had  an  air  of  being  the  only 
human  habitation  in  the  world,  it  was  so  silent  and 
remote.  Nothing  but  sand  and  palm-trees  were  to  be 
seen  upon  the  landward  side,  with  the  exception  of 
a  little  mangrove  swamp  just  at  the  river's  mouth. 
To  seaward  nothing  but  a  calm,  deep-purple  sea,  with 
the  stars  mirrored  in  it,  and  not  a  sail  in  sight.     A 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  179 

tiger1  snarled  in  the  jungle,  half  a  mile  away.  His 
snarling  sounded  just  like  the  noises  that  cats  make 
in  London  squares.  The  peons  said  they  heard  him 
sharpening  his  claws  upon  a  tree.  This  may  have 
been  so,  for  their  ears  are  quicker  far  than  those  of 
men  attuned  to  motor  horns  and  factory  buzzers.  I 
could  not  hear  him,  perhaps  for  lack  of  faith.  What 
I  did  hear  was  the  caressing  rhythm  of  the  surf  as  it 
washed  gently  on  the  sand.  There  were  too  many 
sharks  to  bathe ;  but  luckily  the  nearness  to  the  sea 
kept  off  mosquitos,  and  as  the  light  waned  rapidly, 
the  lonely  house,  shrouded  in  darkness,  seemed  to  lie 
guarded  by  the  palm-trees  against  the  perils  of  the 
night. 

For  hours  we  sat  and  talked,  "  taking  the  cool "  ;2 
but  what  we  talked  about  I  do  not  quite  forget,  but 
disremember.  I  fancy,  as  is  usual  in  such  conversa- 
tions in  such  countries,  that  the  talk  ran,  not  on  the 
war,  or  about  Paris,  London,  or  New  York.  Rather 
it  turned  upon  Colombia,  Bogota,  the  Magdalena 
River,  the  rolling  plains  beyond  the  Andes  that 
stretch  along  the  Rio  Meta  down  to  the  Orinoco;  on 
snakes  and  boa-constrictors,  feats  with  the  lazo,  and 
most  of  all  on  horses  and  the  enormous  distance  that 
they  had  covered  in  a  day.  When  men  from  cities 
talk  with  those  who  dwell  nearer  to  nature  round  the 
camp  fire,  the  less  sophisticated  always  seem  to  have 
much  more  to  say,  for  they  speak  unreservedly  of  the 
daily  incidents  of  their  lives,  whereas  the  city  dwellers 
often  have  no  incidents  worth  mentioning  to  talk 
about.  That  which  enthrals  us  in  the  realms  of  the 
1  Jaguar.  2  "  Tomando  el  fresco." 


180  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

electric  light ;  in  streets  that  reek  of  petrol  and  of 
horse-dung  ;  our  nice  dissections  of  our  motives ;  the 
why  and  wherefore  and  the  details  of  the  last  divorce 
case  ;  the  literary  style  of  so-and-so  ;  whether  a  painter 
should  set  down  that  which  he  sees,  or  merely  cubes 
of  what  he  sees  ;  the  sordid  strife  of  politics  ;  and  all 
the  infinite  and  intricate  coil  of  life  in  cities — become 
as  vapid  as  a  fashionable  revue,  out  on  the  prairies, 
in  the  virgin  forests,  or  on  the  mountain  trail. 
Not  only  could  the  men  who  listen  not  comprehend 
it,  but  the  strayed  man  of  culture  could  not  for  very 
shame  talk  of  futilities  to  men  whose  lives  are  passed 
in  action  and  in  the  face  of  facts. 

So  it  chanced  at  the  lone  hacienda  by  the 
Caribbean  Sea.  We  wandered  with  the  conquerors 
up  the  Magdalena  River,  toiled  with  them  in  the 
swamps,  and  froze  upon  the  passes  of  the  Andes  upon 
the  road  to  Bogota.  It  seemed  as  natural  to  talk  of 
these  things  as  it  does  in  Rome  to  talk  about  the 
Caesars.  Bolivar,  the  most  interesting  man  the 
Americas  have  yet  produced,  and  his  fantastic  life  and 
strange  career  appeared  quite  natural  told  by  Don 
Julian  Patron.  The  various  revolutions,  so  bewilder- 
ing to  Europeans,  became  as  clear  as  noonday,  and 
when  related  by  the  men  who  had  taken  part  in  them, 
ranged  one  involuntarily  on  one  side  or  the  other,  and 
made  one  hang  upon  adventures  of  some  unknown 
general  or  another  as  if  his  victims  had  been  told  in 
thousands  instead  of  but  a  miserable  poor  score  or  two. 
As  we  talked  on,  great  vampire  bats  occasionally  sailed 
by  as  noiselessly  as  barn-owls,  and  howling  monkeys 
serenaded    us,   or  perhaps   held  a   meeting  on   their 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  181 

political   affairs.      No   matter   how  late  Colombians 
sit  talking  overnight,  at  sunrise  everybody  is  astir. 

The  little  port  of  Cobenas — destined,  no  doubt, 
one  day  to  be  important,  for  ports  are  few  between 
Cartagena  and  the  Isthmus — is  just  the  place  where  in 
old  days  a  slaver  might  have  come  into,  discharged 
her  cargo  and  got  to  sea  again  with  not  a  soul  to  say  a 
word.  Situated  as  it  is,  between  the  two  points  that 
stretch  out  into  the  sea,  and  deeply  indented,  it 
makes  a  sort  of  horseshoe,  and  is  sheltered  against  all 
winds  except  the  north.  This  wind  blows  for  six 
weeks  during  the  year,  and  for  the  remaining  time 
Cobenas  is  perfectly  secure.  The  tide  goes  out  only 
about  six  feet,  so  that  deep  water  comes  almost  to 
the  shore.  A  little  pier  of  wood  runs  out  a  hundred 
yards  into  the  sea.  Two  hundred  yards  still  farther 
out  the  water  deepens  to  about  thirty  feet. 

Nothing  more  primitive  in  the  way  of  loading 
up  a  vessel  can  be  seen,  except,  perhaps,  in  some  of  the 
Pacific  Islands  or  the  Arabian  coast.  At  the  pier- 
head there  is  a  crush  for  cattle  constructed  of  bamboos. 
The  vessel  loading  lays  out  a  warp,  which  is  made 
fast  around  a  palm-tree  to  keep  her  steady.  The 
cattle  that  have  come  straight  from  the  pastures,  not 
a  mile  away,  are  driven  down  the  pier  aboard  the 
ship.  If  one  falls  overboard  he  swims  ashore  and 
joins  the  herd  again.  The  steers  stand  on  the 
beach,  "  held  back,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  by  mounted 
herdsmen,  and  the  whole  scene  is  wild  and  curious, 
calling  up  memories  of  the  buccaneers,  who  prob- 
ably often  shipped  cattle  at  this  very  port  to  take 
to  Cuba  or  farther  up  the  Main  to  some  of  their  safe 


1 82  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

hiding-places,1  to  salt  them  down  or  dry  their  meat  on 
the  boucan,  from  whence  they  took  their  name. 

Everything  conjoins  to  make  Cobefias  an  ideal 
cattle  port.  The  shores  of  the  bay  are  sandy,  and, 
except  the  mangrove  swamp  in  miniature  at  the 
little  river's  mouth,  no  mangroves  grow  to  block  the 
pathway  to  the  beach.  Except  when  the  north  wind 
blows  right  on  the  shore  there  is  no  surf,  and  there 
appears  to  be  no  coral  reef  to  set  up  rollers.  Even  if 
it  exists,  the  water  deepens  so  rapidly  that  it  would 
have  little  effect  at  such  a  depth  upon  the  surface  of 
the  waves.  Its  only  rival  in  the  Gulf  of  Morrosquillo 
is  Cispata;2  this  port,  only  nine  miles  farther  to  the 
north,  is  larger,  and  is  sheltered  from  most  winds, 
but  vessels  have  to  lie  much  farther  out,  and  the 
savannahs  are  several  miles  away,  and  round  the 
port  there  is  a  mangrove  swamp.  At  both  the  little 
ports  the  roads  to  the  interior  are  good — that  is, 
for  Colombia — in  the  dry  season  of  the  year.  In 
winter — that  is,  the  rainy  season — nearly  all  roads  in 
the  republic  become  mere  quagmires,  into  which 
horses  and  mules  struggle  along,  up  to  the  knees  in 
mud.  Water  is  plentiful  close  to  Cobenas,  and  the  old 
well  in  the  hacienda  house,  sunk  probably  by  the 
Spaniards  before  the  independence,  is  at  least  ten  feet 
deep. 

As  day  broke  at  the  hospitable  hacienda  of  Don 
Julian  Patron,  the  sun  slowly  dispersed  the  mist  that 

1  I  was  not  present  when  cattle  were  being  shipped  at  Cobenas, 
but  have  often  seen  them  shipped  under  similar  conditions  at  ports  on 
the  Uruguay  and  the  Parana. 

2  See  Introduction. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  183 

wrapped  the  palm-wood  as  in  a  seething  cauldron, 
blotting  out  the  trunks  and  setting  all  the  feathery 
tops  afloat  in  a  great,  silent  sea.  Then  by  degrees  it 
won  its  perennial  victory  over  the  mist  that  rises  from 
the  sea  and  from  the  sun-scorched  ground.  Slowly  the 
veil  that  overhung  the  woods  was  lifted  and  revealed 
Tolu  twelve  miles  away,  with  all  the  houses  shining 
in  the  sun,  and  the  wet  roofs  reflecting  back  its  rays 
like  sheets  of  looking-glass.  The  Gulf  of  Morros- 
quillo,  sailless  and  dark  as  purple,  unruffled  by  the 
slightest  breeze,  unbroken,  but  where  here  and  there 
a  shoal  of  flying  fish  sent  up  a  shower  of  diamonds  as 
they  flashed  into  the  sun  for  the  brief  moment  of 
their  baulked  existence  in  the  air.  Humming-birds 
hung  poised  above  the  flowers,  macaws  sailed  past 
uttering  their  raucous  cry,  white  ibises  stood  fishing 
by  the  little  river's  bank,  and  the  whole  world  braced 
itself  for  its  daily  battle  with  the  sun. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

At  sunrise  we  left  the  hacienda,  the  heavy  dew 
dropping  off  the  eaves  of  the  house  like  rain,  and 
the  world  feeling  fresh  and  young.  We  struck  into 
the  palm-wood,  passed  a  complicated  system  of  corrals, 
rode  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  came  to  a  high 
gate.  Passing  through  it,  it  then  appeared  the 
palm-wood  that  had  seemed  a  forest  was  but  a 
fringe,  for  in  a  hundred  yards  or  so  we  found 
ourselves  in  quite  a  different  world.  On  every 
side  a  rolling  plain  stretched  out,  but  a  plain  set 
with  bushy  thickets  here  and  there,  and  here  and 
there  with  clumps  of  noble  forest  trees,  most  of 
them  at  that  season  of  the  year  great  pyramids  of 
flowers.  When  you  looked  closer  at  the  country 
you  saw  it  was  an  artificial  plain,  and  that  originally 
it  had  been  a  virgin  forest,  cleared  by  fire  and  sown 
with  artificial  grasses. 

Here  and  there  blackened  and  decaying  stumps 
stood  up  amongst  the  grass,  looking  like  strange 
animals  in  that  sea  of  green.  Though  it  had  not 
rained  for  months,  and  all  the  ground  was  baked  and 
parched,  with  gaping  cracks  wide  enough  to  take 
a  horse's  foot  in  them,  yawning  on  every  side,  and  all 
the  places  that  had  been  swamps  in  winter,  as  it  were 

184 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  185 

frozen  by  the  sun  into  a  series  of  little  pits  that 
had  been  footmarks  poached  by  cattle  in  the  mud, 
the  planted  grasses,  Para  and  Guinea,  were  still 
quite  green  and  fresh.  Hundreds  of  cattle  stood 
about  the  parklike  scenery,  some  grazing  and  some 
sheltering  from  the  sun  under  the  forest  trees. 
These  trees,  bongos  and  ceibas  for  the  most  part, 
were  tenanted  by  colonies  of  red,  howling  monkeys, 
locally  called  araguatos,1  and  by  whole  flocks  of 
parrots  and  macaws.  The  trees  themselves  had 
once  formed  part  of  the  primeval  forests,  and  had 
been  left  to  serve  as  shelters  and  as  the  rallying-points 
for  cattle,  whilst  wells  in  many  instances  had  been  dug 
beneath  their  shade. 

The  whole  scene  gave  the  impression  of  great 
antiquity,  and  it  required  but  little  imagination  to 
fancy  that  the  groups  of  cattle  were  antediluvian 
animals,  especially  as  many  of  the  beasts  were  of  the 
curious,  humped  breed  known  as  zebus,  and  grew  to 
a  great  size.  To  make  the  illusion  more  complete, 
one  or  two  armadillos  scuttled  to  their  holes,  and 
great  iguanas,  three  or  four  feet  long,  ran  swiftly 
through  the  grass. 

As  we  rode  through  the  plain,  every  now  and 
then  a  "  vaquero "  would  come  out  from  behind 
a  clump  of  bush,  so  that  at  last  we  had  a  bodyguard 
behind  us  who  watched  our  every  movement  without 
apparently  looking  at  us  in  the  least.  Somehow  one 
felt  just  as  one  feels  on  entering  a  Moorish  house  in 
Morocco  or  Algeria,  where,  though  no  one  is  seen, 
the  presence   of  scrutinizing    eyes   peering    through 

1  Si  mi  a  ursina. 


1 86  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

crevices  and  under  lifted  blinds,  makes  itself  felt 
magnetically  between  your  shoulders  and  sends  a 
shiver  down  the  back.  The  difference  was  that  now 
and  then  in  Africa  a  stifled  laugh  makes  you  in- 
voluntarily turn  your  head.  I  will  not  say  the 
Colombian  vaqueros  could  not  laugh  ;  but  their 
brown  faces,  looking  as  if  cut  out  of  wood,  suggested 
anything  but  laughter.  In  fact,  most  people  who 
pass  long  days  upon  the  plains,  whether  in  Colombia 
or  elsewhere,  alone,  exposed  to  sun  and  wind,  to  rain 
and  cold  and  heat,  laugh  little,  and  when  they  do, 
there  is  something  almost  sinister  that  seems  to  mingle 
with  their  mirth.  Upon  the  other  hand,  their 
manners  were  most  courteous,  and  all  of  them  saluted 
Don  Julian  Patron  with  natural  assurance  and  with 
ease.  Nothing  escaped  their  observation,  for  if  a 
horse  happened  to  start,  and  I  was  riding  "  a  jade 
that  would  start  at  a  feather,"  in  the  words  of  the  old 
Georgian  song,  a  murmured  "  Vaya "  or  "  Jesus  " 
showed  they  were  on  the  watch.  After  confabulation 
with  Don  Julian,  they  separated  into  a  fan-shaped 
formation  and  drove  together  slowly  two  or  three 
hundred  head  of  cattle  on  to  a  bare  space  close  to  a 
clump  of  trees. 

Though  there  were  monkeys  in  the  trees  they 
did  not  throw  anything  down  at  us,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  "  gato  monillo  "  in  the  Bachiller  Enciso's  narra- 
tive.1 The  cattle  were  quieter  than  any  prairie  cattle  I 
have  ever  seen,  and  came  up  in  long  lines,  the  vaqueros 
never  being  obliged  to  gallop  or  to  shout,  as  is  the  case 
both  in  the  Argentine  Republic  and  in  Mexico. 
1  See  Chapter  III. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  187 

Considering  the  long  time  that  had  passed  without 
a  shower  of  rain,  they  were  in  excellent  condition. 
Nearly  all  of  them  were  either  a  light,  fawn  colour,  or 
fawn  and  white,  a  uniformity  caused  by  a  far-off 
strain  of  Norman  blood.  A  few  were  parti-coloured, 
brown  or  black  and  white.  This  in  Colombia  is 
known  as  "  mapurito,"  a  word  also  applied  to  skunks, 
which  are  all  black  and  white.  It  may  be  Indian  in 
its  origin,  for  it  does  not  sound  like  a  Spanish  word.1 
Nothing  could  well  be  more  unlike  a  wild  "  rodeo  "2 
in  the  Argentine,  Brazil,  or  Mexico.  Here  were 
no  tossing  manes,  and  horses  pulled  up  on  their 
haunches  with  a  jerk,  no  fluttering  ponchos,  no  lazos 
swinging  round  the  herdsmen's  heads,  no  dust,  no 
panting  dogs  stretched  out  after  their  gallop  with  the 
herd.  The  cattle  did  not  move  round  restlessly,  with 
fiery  eyes  and  lashing  tails,  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
break  away.  In  all  the  herd  on  the  Colombian 
rodeo  only  two  or  three  long-horned,  angular, 
old-fashioned-looking  prairie  steers  from  Venezuela 
showed  the  least  uneasiness.  These  animals,  bred 
on  the  great  savannahs  on  the  Orinoco,  were  what  is 
called  "criollo"3  cattle — that  is,  native — and  hence 
descended  from   the   cattle   brought  by  the  Spanish 

1  However,  it  is  not  safe  to  make  too  sure  of  words  in  Spanish 
America,  as  so  many  words,  now  obsolete  in  Spain,  have  been 
preserved  in  the  various  republics  by  the  descendants  of  the  conquerors, 
crystallized  in  the  current  of  their  colloquial  speech. 

2  A  rodeo  is  a  bare  plot  of  ground  on  which  cattle  are  assembled 
for  inspection  or  counting.  Sometimes,  as  in  Brazil,  salt  is  placed  for 
them  to  lick  in  great  blocks. 

8  **  Criollo  — ».*.,  "  Creole  " — means  "  native."  Hence,  a  black 
man  or  a  white  man,  a  mulato  or  a  zambo,  can  be  a  Creole  of 
America.  Cattle,  horses,  and  animals  in  general  are  always  spoken 
of  as  Creole,  if  they  are  of  native  breeds. 


1 88  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

at  the  conquest.  Raw-boned  and  fierce-eyed,  though 
rather  low  in  condition,  they  yet  were  heavy  animals, 
weighing  at  least  twelve  hundred  pounds.  Of  all  the 
cattle  on  the  rodeo  they  probably  would  have  been 
by  far  the  most  dangerous  when  shut  in  a  corral. 
Their  hides  were  heavy  and  their  horns  immense,  and 
in  their  native  wilds  they  probably  were  fleet  of  foot 
as  antelopes. 

They  had  been  brought  by  ship  from  Venezuela 
a  year  before,  but  had  not  fattened  well  after  the 
voyage.  In  the  rodeo  there  were  several  other  very 
heavy  animals,  and  as  distinct  from  all  the  rest  as 
were  the  Venezuelan  steers.  Dark  red,  and  very  high 
upon  the  leg,  Don  Julian  pointed  them  out  with 
pride  as  we  rode  slowly  through  the  docile  herd  that 
parted  mechanically  as  we  advanced.  He  said  that 
they  were  crosses  from  a  zebu  bull  that  he  had 
brought  from  the  Island  of  Jamaica.  Certainly  they 
were  splendid  specimens  for  size  and  bulk,  if  not 
for  quality.  One  young  bull,  only  three  years  old, 
weighed  twenty  hundredweight,  and  it  appeared  his 
sire  was  heavier.  Don  Julian  explained  with  pride 
that  the  race  is  immune  from  ticks,  runs  to  great  size, 
and,  as  it  took  its  origin  in  the  tropics,  is  little  subject 
to  the  diseases  that  attack  breeds  coming  from  the 
north.  The  native  cattle  were  the  best  native  cattle 
I  had  ever  seen,  tamer,  and  heavier,  and  better  shaped 
than  are  the  cattle  of  the  native  breeds  either  of  the 
Argentine  Republic  or  Brazil.  Many  were  fully  nine 
hundred  pounds  in  weight,  and  some  few  nearly 
twelve.  The  vaqueros  were  as  quiet-looking  as 
their   cattle.     Though    all    had   lazos,    none    carried 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  189 

arms  or  had  that  air  of  wildness  that  you  see  in  the 
cowboys  of  the  Western  States,  the  Mexicans,  or 
Argentines.  Still,  they  were  quite  efficient  at  their 
work,  though  without  much  apparent  pride  in  their 
horse-gear  or  in  their  own  appearance,  a  thing  unusual 
amongst  cattlemen,  no  matter  where  they  live. 

The  heat  was  Stirling,  and  their  little  horses  hung 
their  heads  and  let  their  ears  flap  backwards  and 
forwards,  a  sign  that  they  were  suffering  from  the  sun. 
When  the  rodeo  had  dispersed,  we  rode  in  a  sun  fit 
to  roast  an  ostrich  egg,  for  several  hours,  through  the 
"potrero,"  looking  at  the  cattle  and  especially  searching 
for  the  great  zebu  bull  that  Don  Julian  referred  to  "as  a 
portent."1  As  often  happens  in  a  search  for  something, 
that  you  find  another  thing  of  equal  or  superior 
value,  in  riding  up  and  down  the  vast  potrero,2  I 
had  great  opportunities  for  observing  both  the  cattle 
and  the  land.  The  cattle  still  continued  to  be  all  of 
the  same  fawn,  fawn  and  white,  or  cream  colour,  with 
an  occasional  "  mapurito  "  animal.  There  had  not 
been  sufficient  time  for  the  recently  introduced  cross  of 
zebu  blood  to  take  effect,  except  in  a  few  instances. 
When  it  had  done  so,  the  tendency  had  been  to  darken 
the  colour,  to  give  weight  and  strength,  and  to  add 
fierceness  to  the  breed. 

With  all  the  advantages  of  a  race  originated  in  the 
tropics,  and  therefore  more  or  less  immune  from  ticks, 
its  suitability  for  draught  purposes,  and  its  hardy 
constitution,  I  should  consider  it  a  misfortune  if  the 

1  "  Un  portento." 

2  "Potrero,"  literally  a  place  for  colts  ("potros").  This  ony 
was  many  miles  in  extent,  and  the  idea  of  its  being  bounded  be 
fences  was  never  present,  as  the  fences  chiefly  ran  through  woods. 


190  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

breed  were  to  spread  itself  over  Colombia.  The 
country  is  not  one  in  which  draught  oxen  are  much 
used.  The  beef  of  the  zebu  is  coarse.  The  animal 
itself  is  much  less  reproductive  than  is  the  Angus  or 
the  Hereford.  Lastly,  if  the  zebu  were  to  spread 
itself  over  the  vast  savannahs  on  the  Meta  and  the 
Casanare,  known  as  Los  Llanos  de  Casanare,  a  breed 
would  spring  up  likely  to  become  extraordinarily 
wild  and  coarse.  This  probably  would  not  matter  so 
much,  for  during  the  late  war  it  was  almost  proved  to 
demonstration  that  wild  prairie  cattle  are  just  as  suitable 
for  the  packing-house  as  were  the  better  breeds. 

Beside  the  zebu  cross,  scattered  about  the  potrero 
were  a  few  Herefords,  chiefly  of  one  and  two  years 
old.  They  seemed  to  thrive,  as  do  their  race  in  almost 
every  climate  of  the  world.  In  such  a  climate  as  that 
of  El  Departamento  de  Bolivar,  where  the  thermometer 
probably  seldom  falls  much  below  eighty  degrees  (of 
Fahrenheit)  I  am  convinced  no  breed  would  give  such 
good  results  as  would  the  Hereford.  They  are  the  ideal 
cattle  for  a  ranch,  easily  fed,  enduring  rapid  changes 
of  temperature,  and  not  too  heavy  in  the  hide  or 
bones.  Certainly  they  soon  become  extremely  wild 
and  run  at  the  approach  of  man,  but  on  the  other 
hand  are  rarely  savage  when  enclosed,  and  every 
cattleman  knows  the  advantage  of  having  gentle 
animals  to  deal  with  when  shut  up  in  a  corral. 
Crossed  with  the  native  breed  they  would  produce  a 
splendid  animal,  and  one  that  easily  might  run  to 
a  considerable  weight.  In  the  true  tropics  the 
Shorthorn  soon  degenerates,  and  needs  infusion  of 
new  blood.     Strange  as   it  may  appear,  the  Angus 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  191 

seems  suited  to  the  climate,  but  suffers  much  from 
ticks,  and  its  savage  temper  renders  it  dangerous  in 
ranch  work.  After  much  riding  up  and  down,  and 
just  as  we  were  giving  up  the  search,  we  came  on 
"El  Portento,"  the  old  zebu  bull  of  which  Don 
Julian  had  spoken  with  such  admiration  and  respect. 
As  he  glowered  at  the  horsemen  from  a  thicket, 
beneath  whose  shade  he  stood  to  shelter  from  the 
sun,  he  really  looked  portentous  and  like  an  inhabitant 
of  a  primeval  world. 

Dark  brown,  so  dark  that  in  the  shade  he 
seemed  quite  black,  his  enormous  shoulders  and  com- 
paratively light  legs  made  him  exactly  like  a  buffalo. 
Apparently  about  six  years  old,  he  had  acquired 
that  look  about  the  neck  and  shoulders,  as  if  in 
armour,  so  thickly  did  his  hide  fall  into  folds  around 
his  dewlap,  that  bulls  often  take  on  when  they 
advance  in  age.  His  owner  estimated  that  he  weighed 
at  least  twenty-two  hundredweight,  a  considerable 
bulk  even  for  a  Shorthorn,  and  I  should  think  his 
estimate  was  right.  Few  cattlemen  in  the  possession 
of  their  senses,  unless  mounted  on  an  exceptionally 
heavy  horse,  would  have  dared  to  lazo  him,  and  even 
then  would  have  had  a  formidable  task.  Though  I 
have  known  Mexican  vaqueros1  catch  and  subdue 
a  grizzly  bear,  the  risk  of  lazoing  "  El  Portento " 
would  not  have  been  much  less.  We  did  not  put  the 
venture  to  the  test,  but  prudently  rode  round  him  at  a 
little  distance,  keeping  our  eyes  well  open  for  a  sudden 
rush,  a  thing  that  he  was  said  to  be  quite  prone  to 

1  To  accomplish  this  feat  at  least  four  horsemen  are  required,  and 
they  run  great  danger. 


192  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

execute.  As  he  stood  underneath  his  thicket,  with 
the  band  of  mounted  men  watching  him  from  a 
respectful  distance,  amidst  the  wild  surroundings  and 
with  the  hoarse  cries  of  the  flocks  of  parrots  that  flew 
occasionally  over  our  heads,  the  scene  was  striking 
and  not  easy  to  forget. 

Though  the  surroundings  were  so  different,  I 
thought  that  in  the  Caledonian  forest  in  the  days  of 
Hector  Boece  and  Fordun,  one  of  the  fierce  white 
bulls  of  which  they  speak,  when  brought  to  bay 
under  an  old,  gnarled  oak,  must  have  looked  much  as 
the  portentous  zebu '  looked,  on  that  hot  morning 
in  the  Colombian  wilds. 

Although,  like  nearly  all  ranchmen,  I  was  con- 
vinced the  Hereford  is  the  only  ranch  steer,  it  may  be 
that  Don  Julian  Patron  was  right  in  his  opinion  that 
a  cross  of  the  zebu  with  the  native  breed  was  the 
best  animal  for  Colombia,  or  at  least  for  the  low, 
tropic  lands.  In  cases  of  the  kind,  expert  opinion 
usually  proves  valueless  against  good  level  knowledge 
of  existing  circumstances. 

By  this  time  we  had  been  riding  six  or  seven 
hours,  and  even  Don  Julian  confessed  that  it  was  hot. 
Two  stricken  hours  lay  between  us  and  the  little 
ranche  town  of  Palmito,  for  in  the  great  potrero 
where  we  were,  there  was  neither  shade  or  anything 
to  eat.  We  struck  into  the  "  paso  "  x  and  faced  the 
heat  that  came  down  from  the  sky  and  met  the 
heat  that  rose  from  the  parched  ground.  It  was 
so  hot,  the  sweat  dried  on  the  horses'  coats  like  the 
salt  water  dries  upon  a  sailor's  beard.  We  passed 
1  See  note  on  p.  177  ;  also  p.  4. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  193 

innumerable  low  hills,  went  through  several  high 
gates  of  similar  potreros,1  and  watched  the  cattle 
bunched,  just  as  sheep  bunch  on  a  hot  day,  their 
heads  together,  pushed  as  far  as  possible  under  the 
slightest  shade  afforded  by  a  thicket  or  a  clump  of 
trees.  We  rode  through  dried-up  swamps,  all  poached 
and  pitted  with  old  cattle-tracks,  remarking  as  we 
rode  along,  with  our  hats  pulled  down  as  far  as 
possible  over  our  eyes  (the  stirrups  hot  enough  to 
blister  the  bare  hand),  that  the  cattle,  though  they  had 
suffered  from  the  drought,  were  still  in  marvellous 
condition.  Disease  of  any  kind  was  rare,  and  ticks, 
in  spite  of  heavy  bush,  infrequent.  At  last,  when  we 
had  almost  thought  Palmito  must  be  a  city  ambulant, 
after  riding  down  a  sandy  hill,  the  exhausted  horses 
stumbling  and  tripping,  and  the  vaquero  spurs 
keeping  up  a  constant  jingle  on  their  sides,  we  sud- 
denly came  upon  a  little  river  running  between  high 
rocks.  For  about  half  a  mile  we  followed  it,  riding 
along  its  sandy  course,  splashing  delightfully  in  the 
tepid  water  that  in  the  heat  seemed  almost  cool, 
until  Palmito  burst  upon  our  sight. 

Set  on  a  little  hill,  with  a  great,  unfinished  church 
standing  up  high  above  the  houses,  the  town  appeared. 
All  were  asleep,  for  it  was  just  the  hottest  time  of  the 
whole  day,  between  the  hours  of  three  and  four. 
We  rode  past  sleeping  cottages  buried  in  hedges 
of  bright  crotons  and  of  bignonias,  shaded  by  coco- 
palms.  Even  the  dogs  were  sleeping,  an  unusual 
thing  in  towns,  such  as  Palmito,  in  South  America. 
The  occasional  horses,  standing  saddled  under  reed- 

1  Potrero  =  fenced  pasture-land. 

13 


194  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

thatched  shelters,  rested  on  a  hind-foot  and  were  too 
listless  even  to  switch  their  tails  against  the  myriads 
of  flies  that  buzzed  about  them. 

As  we  advanced  into  the  little  town,  we  passed  by 
stores  with  the  doors  left  wide  open.  Such  goods  as 
were  on  the  shelves  were  left  undefended,  but  by  the 
general  genius  of  sleep.  Sometimes  in  passing  by  a 
house,  through  open  windows  we  could  see  the 
inhabitants  stretched  in  their  hammocks,  slumbering 
underneath  mosquito  curtains.  Remembering  that 
once,  in  youth,  I  had  ridden  into  a  store  in  the 
Argentine  Republic,  rapped  with  my  whip  upon  the 
counter,  and  no  one  answering,  turned  and  ridden  out 
again,  as  we  passed  by  an  open  store  at  the  outskirts 
of  Palmito,  just  at  the  angle  of  a  street,  I  rode  into 
one  door  and  through  the  other,  and  no  one  stirred 
within  the  house. 

When  we  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  enormous 
plaza,  round  which  straggle  the  low,  one-storey 
houses,  thatched  with  palm  leaves,  to  be  seen  in  every 
country  town  throughout  the  tropics  in  Colombia, 
we  pulled  up  at  the  veranda  of  a  house  where  lived 
a  friend  of  Don  Julian  Patron.  No  one  was  stirring, 
so  we  unsaddled,  threw  our  horse-gear  into  the 
middle  of  a  darkened  room,  and  after  seeing  that  the 
horses  were  tied  in  the  shade,  sat  down  upon  the 
saddle-cloths  till  someone  should  wake  up. 

Though  we  were  all  men  broken  to  the  tropics 
and  the  saddle  from  our  youth  upwards,  our  clothes 
were  saturated,  and  perspiration  dripped  from  our 
faces  on  the  ground.  At  last  a  sleepy  voice  was 
heard  saying :   "  Is  that  you,  Julian  ?"  and  from  an 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  195 

inner  room  appeared  a  man  who  bade  us  welcome 
and  not  unnaturally  asked,  "  Why  in  God's  name 
have  you  been  riding  all  these  hours  in  the  sun  ?" 

Then,  to  our  great  astonishment,  for  certainly  I 
should  as  soon  have  looked  for  "  artichokes  at  sea,"  x 
as  goes  the  Spanish  saying,  he  said,  "  I  will  send 
out  for  ice."  I  never  ascertained  whether  the  offer 
was  merely  an  instance  of  "  dandose  charol "  2  or  not, 
although  I  fancied  I  detected  a  faint  smile  run  over 
the  grim  features  of  Don  Julian  Patron.  At  any  rate, 
no  ice  made  its  appearance,  and  we  proceeded  to  drink 
"  panela-water  " 3  to  our  hearts'  content. 

It  was  not  a  long  task  to  inspect  the  natural 
beauties  and  the  architectural  features  of  Palmito. 
The  church,  a  huge,  unfinished  building,  was  rather 
interesting.  Before  it  stood  several  large  wooden 
crosses,  part  of  a  Calvary.  Inside  it  was  the  beau- 
ideal  of  a  church  for  a  hot  country,  scrupulously 
clean  and  empty,  and  not  disfigured  by  cheap  prints 
from  Germany  of  the  Stations  of  the  Cross,  abomina- 
tions set  up  in  so  many  Catholic  churches  in  all 
parts  of  the  world. 

When  we  had  seen  our  horses  fed,  a  ceremony 
always  pleasing  to  a  horseman,  and  necessary  in 
countries  where  they  must  carry  you  next  day,  we 
strolled  into  one  or  two  of  the  stores,  which  in  towns 
like  Palmito  take  the  place  of  clubs.  As  usual 
in  Colombia,  their  owners  were  all  Syrians,  called  by 
the  natives  of  the  country  "  Turcos,"  a  cruel  name 

1  "  Pedir  cotufas  en  el  golfo  n — *.*.,  '*  ask  for  artichokes  at  sea." 

2  Literally,  "  putting  on  patent  leather  " — /*.*.,  giving  oneself  airs. 
5  "  Panela,"  unrefined  sugar. 


196  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

enough  to  give  to  Syrians  had  those  who  gave  it 
comprehended  its  full  irony.  Both  in  Colombia  and 
Venezuela,  Syrians  seem  to  have  monopolized  the 
stores.  In  the  smallest  hamlet  in  the  interior  they 
are  to  be  found.  Industrious  and  intelligent,  they 
easily  outdo  the  native-bred  Colombians  as  shop- 
keepers, and  fill  the  same  place  that  is  held  in  East 
Africa  by  the  Banyans,  and  are  as  cordially  disliked. 
All  of  them  were  well  posted  on  the  varying  fortunes 
of  the  war,  and  all  were  pro-Allies.  As  we  walked 
back  across  the  sandy  plaza,  under  the  stars,  and  with 
the  bats  in  dozens  shrieking  above  our  heads,  the 
fireflies  flitting  in  the  orange-trees,  all  was  so  still 
and  so  remote,  that  the  world  seemed  to  have  stood 
still  a  century  or  two,  or  we  ourselves  to  have  been 
marooned,  in  a  kind  of  fourth  dimension,  outside 
of  ordinary  life. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

When  we  arrived  at  the  house  in  the  plaza  that  we 
had  taken  possession  of  so  unceremoniously,  it  was 
evident  that  something  had  gone  wrong.  There 
were  no  lights  and  no  sign  of  a  dinner,  only  a 
messenger,  who  said  Don  Julian  was  waiting  for  us 
at  another  house  a  little  distance  off,  close  to  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town.  Through  sandy  lanes  we  ploughed 
our  way  for  about  half  a  mile,  passing  by  ranchos 
where  the  dogs,  having  recovered  energy  after  their 
noonday  sleep,  greeted  us  like  a  pack  of  jackals.  The 
house  where  Don  Julian  was  waiting  for  us  proved 
to  be  near  the  river  in  an  imposing  clump  of  forest 
trees.  Dinner  was  ready,  and  we  all  sat  down  to  it 
most  heartily,  except  Don  Julian's  major-domo  from 
Cobenas,  who  had  a  touch  of  fever  from  riding  in  the 
sun.  He  lay  upon  the  floor  groaning  occasionally 
and  taking  aspirin  with  avidity  from  the  tubes 
proffered  him  from  every  side.  No  self-respecting 
Colombian  ever  seems  to  stir  from  home  without  his 
tube  of  aspirin  and  bottle  of  specific  of  some  kind  or 
another  against  the  bites  of  snakes. 

Don  Julian    presided  at  the  board  with  all  the 
dignity  of  a  conquistador. 

As  usual,  several  "  notables  "  had  been  invited  to 

197 


198  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

attend.  As  they  all  knew  the  object  of  my  visit  to 
Colombia  was  to  set  up  a  packing-house,  should  it  prove 
feasible,  and  most  of  them  were  cattle-owners,  the  talk 
quite  naturally  ran  on  the  proper  place  to  build  in  and 
on  the  quantity  of  cattle  that  were  obtainable ;  from 
that  it  wandered  off,  so  to  speak,  into  fairyland.  As 
I  sat  perspiring  in  a  linen  jacket,  and  more  or  less 
"  molido  y  quebrantado,"  like  Don  Quixote,1  after 
my  ten  or  eleven  hours  on  a  fractious  horse  in  a 
terrific  sun,  I  heard  myself  referred  to  as  the  "  Saviour 
of  the  Country."  Knowing  my  public,  I  sat  quietly, 
now  and  then  killing  a  mosquito,  or  brushing  some 
long-legged  wonder  of  the  insect  world  from  off  my 
neck  ;  now  and  then  extracting  some  flying  pest  or 
other  from  my  coffee,  and  ever  and  anon  murmur- 
ing "  Gracias  caballero "  at  the  end  of  a  fervent 
period. 

It  appeared  the  generous  heart  of  the  Colombian 
nation  had  always  yearned  towards  England. 

"  You,  sir,"  said  a  young  orator,  "  embody  for  us 
the  fufilment  of  our  hopes.  England  in  days  gone  by 
sent  out  her  legions  to  shed  their  blood  for  liberty, 
under  the  glorious  banner  of  the  Liberator.  There 
is  a  subtle  sympathy  between  our  countries  that 
extends  itself  across  the  sea,  leaps  over  mountains, 
overcomes  all  difficulties,  making  the  hearts  of  our 
far-divided  fatherlands,  beat  in  one  great  pulsation 
and  in  unison.  This  packing-house  which  England 
is    to   found    will    pave    the    way   for   even    greater 

1  Don  Quixote,  after  his  various  adventures,  especially  after  his 
encounter  with  the  Yangueses,  is  always  described  as  "molido  y 
quebrantado  " — literally,  "  passed  through  a  mill  and  broken  up." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  199 

mutual  esteem  between  our  peoples.  Our  fertile  and 
prolific,  tropic  soil  needs  but  the  fructifying  touch 
of  capital  ...  of  English  capital.  I  see  the  Old 
World,  with  its  secular  experience,  stepping  in  to 
help  its  younger  sister  that  the  illustrious  Genoese 
brought  into  the  family  of  nations.  England,  the  lamp 
of  liberty,  that  little  island  set  like  a  brilliant  in  the 
stormy  northern  seas,  that  rose  to  eminence  by  the 
valour  of  her  sons  and  through  the  fostering  care  of 
a  long  line  of  wise  and  liberal  statesmen,1  will  aid  us 
with  her  advice  and  .  .  .  and  capital. 

"  Our  hearts  are  virgin,  and  from  our  virgin  soil 
shall  come  a  fervent  and  a  generous  response.  Long 
live  the  packing-house  ;  long  live  England,  victory  to 
the  Allies  ;  from  the  topmost  summit  of  the  Andes 
the  spirit  of  the  Liberator  looks  down  upon  us  in 
Palmito  here  to-day  !  .  .  .  I  have  spoken ;  now  I 
extend  the  right  hand  of  a  Colombian  in  sympathy 
and  welcome.     Long  live  Liberty  !" 

It  was  a  glorious  effort,  and  as  the  perspiration 
rolled  down  the  speaker's  brow,  I  tried  to  recollect  all 
that  I  knew  of  the  history  of  Colombia  and  of  the 
independence  wars,  for  I  have  always  held  that 
oratory  has  but  one  useful  function  ...  to  excite 
enthusiasm  and  tell  the  audience  that  which  they 
know  a  thousand  times  better  than  the  orator  himself. 
So  I  sat  waiting,  waging  a  guerrilla  warfare  with  the 
insect  world,  mopping  my  forehead,  and  sipping  my 
panela-water.  Several  more  guests,  so  to  speak,  took 
the  floor,  although  in  most  cases  they  did  not  rise, 
but  spoke,  like  Roman  senators,  seated  in  their  chairs. 
1  Mr.  Asquith  was,  I  think,  Prime  Minister  at  the  time. 


200  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

One  gentleman  thought  I  might  mention  to  the 
spiritual  descendant  of  the  illustrious  Pitt  who  now 
directs  the  destinies  of  Britain,1  that  the  institution  of 
a  land  bank,  to  be  styled  "  El  Banco  Hipotecario  del 
Departamento  de  Bolivar,"  would  be,  not  only  a  great 
boon  to  cattle-owners,  but  would  do  much  to  cement 
the  friendship  between  our  peoples,  to  which  his 
friend,  Don  Emilio  Vazquez,  had  alluded  in  terms  of 
eloquence. 

I  hope  I  rose  to  the  occasion. 

Of  one  thing  I  am  certain,  in  my  discourse 
Bolivar,  Boyaca,  and  Carabobo,  the  brave  llaneros 
under  General  Paez,  the  infamies  of  General  Morillo, 
and  the  Cartagena  martyrs,  jostled  one  another.  In 
my  mind's  eye  I  saw  the  Liberator,  passing  the 
Andes  like  a  second  Napoleon  or  a  Hannibal,  heading 
his  troops  alone — superb,  young,  enthusiastic,  the 
darling  of  the  "  daughters  of  the  republic,"  the 
lodestar  of  the  men.  I  watched  him  entering  Lima, 
with  flowers  showered  down  upon  his  head,  and  saw 
him  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  Then  came  the  rift 
within  the  patriotic  lute  and  disillusions  thickened,  till 
at  last,  betrayed,  sick,  poor,  and  heartbroken,  he  paced 
the  garden  in  the  little  Quinta  de  San  Pedro  near 
Santa  Marta,  under  the  secular  trees,  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  mountains,  and  heard  him  ask  to  be 
buried  in  Caracas  ..."  ungrateful  country  that  I 
have  tried  to  save."  My  scanty  audience  took  it,  I 
think,  for  a  sound  business  statement,  quite  in  the 
English  style.      No,  senor,   not  eloquent   perhaps — 

1  It  may  be  after  all  that  it  was  Mr.  Lloyd  George,  not  Mr. 
Asquith,  who  was  Prime  Minister  at  the  time  that  I  was  at  Palmito. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  201 

the  English  waste  no  words,  they  have  a  saying : 
"  Times  is  money  " — but  pertinent  and  illuminating 
such  as  only  a  son  of  Albion  could  have  possibly 
evolved. 

Now  and  then  Don  Julian,  I  thought,  smiled 
grimly  during  my  remarks,  but  when  I  had  concluded 
said  quietly,  "  Yes,  I  think  what  we  want  is  capital, 
but  we  have  got  first  to  provide  the  raw  material." 
The  others,  though  some  of  them  had  been  in  the 
United  States  and  all  were  quick-witted,  as  are  most 
Colombians,  were  pleased  with  what  I  said,  though 
any  one  of  them  could  have  said  it  far  better  for 
himself,  for  oratory  in  South  America  grows  upon 
every  hedge,  and  as  the  hedges  usually  are  formed  of 
crotons,  or  some  other  variegated  plant,  it  takes  the 
hue  they  lend. 

When  this  unofficial  meeting,  which  perhaps  may 
best  be  described  as  a  "  ccenaculum,"  came  to  a  close, 
we  were  left — that  is,  my  secretary  and  myself  and 
Don  Julian,  his  major  domo  and  a  nephew,  who  had 
attached  himself  to  us,  partly  as  guide,  partly  as 
philosopher  and  friend — to  sit  and  smoke,  for  as  it 
was  but  ten  o'clock,  and  no  one  in  Colombia,  at  least 
in  the  hot  regions  of  the  coast,  dreams  of  going  to 
sleep  before  midnight  at  the  earliest,  we  had  an  hour 
or  two  to  waste.  In  almost  every  language,  men 
talk  of  killing  time.  In  Spanish  the  expression  is 
"  to  make  time," *  which  more  or  less  corresponds  to 
our  own  "  passing  time,"  and  thus  avoids  the  murder- 
ous inference,  for  after  all,  time  is  our  greatest  friend. 
"  Time    and    myself   against    three    others,"    was   a 

1  "  Hacer  tiempo." 


202  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

reported  saying  of  Philip  II.,  known  to  his  country- 
men as  the  Prudent,  and  this  shows  he  had  under- 
stood how  valuable  is  time  .  .  .  when  it  is  on  our 
side. 

By  degrees  the  company  dispersed,  leaving  us  with 
our  host  and  Don  Julian.  Both  were  educated  men, 
had  travelled,  and  had  seen  the  world — that  is,  the 
world  of  the  West  Indies  and  the  United  States. 
One,  an  absolutely  white  Colombian  of  pure  Spanish 
blood,  assured  me  that  a  land  bank  would  be  a 
capital  investment.  He  thought  it  might  well 
advance  capital  to  landowners  on  the  security  of 
their  cattle  and  their  estates.  Local  capitalists 
exacted  two  per  cent,  per  month  for  all  advances, 
and  capital  was  scarce.  The  idea  seemed  good 
enough,  and  without  doubt  some  day  the  United 
States,  or  perhaps  a  syndicate,  will  take  it  up,  and  in 
a  little  the  Colombian  landowners  will  find  they 
have  become  its  slaves,  and  have  to  sell  their 
hypothecated  lands  for  anything  that  they  can  get. 
Such  is  the  general  effect  of  institutions  of  the  kind 
in  countries  such  as  Colombia,  where,  though  the 
"  gombeen-man "  is  perfectly  well  known,  he  is  a 
native  of  the  place,  and  local  use  and  wont  keep  his 
nefarious  practices  to  some  measure  in  restraint.  A 
foreign  syndicate  is  not  amenable  to  any  restraint 
of  that  kind,  and  if  by  chance  any  "  desgracia,"1 
as  it  is  called  euphoniously,  befalls  a  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  a  howl  goes  up  about  the  "  massacre 

1  A  "  desgracia  " — literally,  "  an  accident " — is  of  many  natures. 
If  it  should  take  the  form  of  assassination  it  is  still  referred  to  as  a 
"  desgracia  "  in  Colombia  and  Spain. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  203 

of  our  citizens,"    and    the    big   stick    is    brought    to 
bear. 

By  this  time  Don  Julian's  major-domo,  by  dint  of 
aspirin  and  frequent  applications  to  a  bottle  of  old 
rum,  had  got  his  fever  under.  Old  rum  (ron  viejo) 
is  a  standing  joke  throughout  Colombia,  where  it  is 
said  to  be  distilled  on  Saturday  and  become  old  by 
Monday.  Such  as  it  was,  it  had  a  marvellous  effect 
on  Anacleto  Ramos,  who  sat  up  and  volunteered  a 
fund  of  information  upon  botany,  on  international 
law,1  and  upon  snake-bites.  On  the  latter  theme  he 
soon  waxed  eloquent,  as  most  Colombians  who  live 
in  the  coast  regions  are  not  unnaturally  rather  apt  to 
prove,  as  snakes  of  many  and  varying  breeds  are  rife 
in  all  the  woods. 

Don  Anacleto  had  much  to  say  about  the  waco- 
plant,  which  under  different  names  is  known  in  nearly 
all  the  republics  in  Central  America,  in  Mexico  and 
Texas,  and  right  up  to  the  States.8  The  waco  was, 
as  he  averred,  "  good  medicine,"  but  mere  gullery 
compared  to  a  plant  growing  not  far  from  Cartagena, 
which  by  his  description  seemed  to  be  an  aristolochia 
of  some  sort  or  other.  The  juice  of  the  root  chewed 
and  introduced  into  a  serpent's  mouth,  "  of  the  most 
venomous  that  lives,"  straightway  stupefies  it,  and 
you  can  handle  it  with  impunity.     "  Yes,  sir,  with 

1  u  Derecho  de  gentes  " — international  law — is  a  favourite  study 
in  South  America,  and  is  possibly  as  useful  to  the  students  of  it  as  the 
higher  mathematics,  spiritualism,  or  mysticism  would  be ;  but  decidedly 
less  useful  than  a  tincture  of  veterinary  surgery  might  be  to  men  who 
are  constrained  to  travel  on  horse  or  mule  back. 

2  Your  real  Texan,  in  his  familiar  talk,  never  seems  to  think,  or 
at  least  allow,  that  Texas  is  one  of  the  United  States,  as  he  always 
speaks  of  a  "  man  from  the  States  "  or  a  "  horse  from  the  States." 


2o4  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

complete,  complete  impunity  ;  but  more  than  that,  if 
the  malevolent  creature  that  first  deceived  our  Mother 
Eve  is  forced  to  swallow  a  few  drops,  it  dies  incon- 
tinently, in  fierce  convulsions,  so  sovereign  is  the 
juice."  Don  Anacleto  never  had  tried  the  experiment 
himself,  but  knew  that  it  was  as  he  had  narrated  it,  for 
he  had  had  it  from  a  priest,  a  friend  of  his,  a  man 
who  could  not  lie. 

As  snakes  abounded  in  Palmito,  and  probably 
were  crawling  in  the  jungle  not  fifty  yards  from 
where  we  sat,  we  were  all  much  impressed.  It  may 
be  that  there  are  several  methods  just  as  efficacious 
with  a  snake  as  to  introduce  poison  in  its  mouth, 
which  seems  a  sort  of  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle, 
but  we  said  nothing,  though  I  reflected  that  after  all 
it  might  be  as  Don  Anacleto  said  it  was,  for  I 
remembered  the  old  Spanish  rhyme  of  the  tarantula  * 
which  savs  it  "  is  a  wicked  beast  that  neither  sticks 
nor  stones  avail  against." 

At  last  even  Don  Anacleto  became  silent  and 
stretched  himself  to  rest  in  the  hammock  that  he  had 
been  using  as  a  chair,  remarking  that  if  a  vampire-bat 
were  to  fix  upon  his  toe  he  knew  a  plant  that  would 
soon  staunch  the  blood.  However,  he  did  not 
communicate  its  name  or  its  appearance  to  the  rest  of 
us.  Don  Julian  said  he  was  an  original,  but  "  good  as 
bread ";  moreover,  he  knew  bookkeeping,  and  though 
he   had  heard  he  belonged  to  a  Freemasons'  Lodge, 

1  "  La  tarantula  es  un  bicho  rau'  malo,  no  se  mata  con  piera  ni 
palo."  Beasts  being  given  to  mankind  to  kill  in  any  way  they  please, 
the  tarantula  seems,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  lusus  nature,  and  it  is  a  pity 
that  there  is  no  death-compelling  aristolochia  placed  by  Providence 
in  Spain. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  205 

was  a  true  Christian  at  the  heart,  and,  though  a  little 
dark  in  colour,  perfectly  white.  This  enigmatic 
phrase  I  took  to  mean  that  Don  Anacleto  was  an 
educated  man,  wore  a  good  suit  of  clothes,  and  did 
not  labour  with  his  hands.  He  also  carried  a  re- 
volver with  a  mother-of-pearl  stock,  although,  as  fate 
would  have  it,  he  was  out  of  cartridges.  This  useful 
piece  of  furniture  proclaimed  his  racial  status,  for  in 
Colombia  only  "  los  blancos  "  carry  weapons  of  the 
sort. 

The  others  gradually,  after  hoping  that  we  should 
rest  and  pass  a  good  night,  wrapped  themselves  in 
their  light  cotton  M  ruanas  " 1  and  lay  down,  some  in 
their  hammocks,  others  on  the  floor,  with  their  heads 
resting  on  their  saddles,  the  fittest  pillow  after  the 
kind  of  day  that  we  had  passed. 

I  stood  a  little  under  a  great  tree,  listening  to  the 
noises  that  in  such  kind  of  places  as  Palmito  rise  from 
the  woods  at  night.  It  seemed  that  the  whole  forest, 
so  silent,  but  for  the  parrots  here  and  there  in  daylight, 
had  come  to  life  in  the  dark  hours,  and  that  strange 
beasts  were  on  the  prowl.  One  heard  the  parting  of 
the  bushes  as  they  passed  along,  and  the  soft  swishing 
of  the  twigs  as  the  leaves  came  back  to  their  position 
when  the  animal  had  passed.  Bats  and  owls  floated 
by.  A  heavy  scent  of  flowers,  that  seemed  to  relax 
and  shed  their  fragrance  in  the  cool  air  after  the  long, 
hot  day  had  kept  it  back  constrained  and  sunbound, 
filled  all  the  atmosphere. 

1  A  "ruana"  and  a  "poncho"  are  the  same  thing — /'.<-.,  a 
square  piece  of  cloth  or  other  material  with  a  hole  to  pass  the  head 
through. 


206  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

The  sky  was  deepest  purple,  the  stars  brilliant  and 
steady,  without  the  fitful  twinkling  that  they  show  in 
northern  latitudes,  and  in  a  patch  of  moonlight, 
standing  near  a  well,  a  gourd-tree  with  its  great 
bloated  fruit  and  air  as  of  a  primeval  vegetation  looked 
strange  and  terrible. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Next  morning,  according  to  the  immemorial 
Colombian  use  and  wont,  the  horses  had  strayed  far 
into  the  recesses  of  the  pasture  where  they  had  been 
turned  out  to  graze.  Quite  contrary  to  the  usual 
custom  in  the  Argentine  Republic  and  Mexico,  none 
of  them  had  been  hobbled  or  tied  to  a  stake  rope. 
So  we  waited,  drinking  strong  coffee,  till  the  sun  was 
high  in  the  horizon,  losing  the  precious  hours  just 
after  dawn,  when  every  horseman  likes  to  kill  a  league 
or  two  before  the  heat  begins. 

At  last  the  horses  were  all  found  and  driven  in, 
and  luckily  none  of  them  had  been  bitten  by  a 
vampire-bat  and  rendered  weak  through  loss  of  blood. 
We  saddled  hastily,  bidding  good-bye  to  our  host 
and  to  Don  Anacleto,  to  whom  we  gave  a  tube  of 
aspirin,  a  gift  he  qualified  as  "  precious  in  the  extreme 
and  grateful  as  the  manna  to  the  Israelites."  Don 
Julian,  in  spite  of  our  entreaties,  rode  with  us  half 
a  league  upon  the  way,  sitting  erect  and  looking 
like  the  Commendatore's  statue  in  the  opera.  I 
thanked  him,  making  him  promise  to  visit  us  in 
England,  in  which  place  I  assured  him  he  had  a 
servant  and  a  house.  Similarly,  he  placed  his  mansion 
in  Tolii  once  more   entirely  at  my  service,  and  we 

207 


208  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

clasped  hands.  No  sooner  was  this  ceremony 
accomplished  than  he  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur, 
checked  him  and  made  him  rear,  and,  turning  in  the 
air,  struck  into  a  fast  sobre-paso1  on  the  homeward 
road.  In  fifty  yards  or  so  he  stopped,  shouted 
"  Adios  Don  Roberto  !"  to  which  I  answered  "  Adios 
Don  Julian,  and  go  with  God !"  He  vanished  into 
the  cloud  of  dust  that  has  shut  off  so  many  hospitable, 
good  friends  in  South  America — friends  of  a  day  or 
two  sometimes,  but  unforgettable. 

For  the  ensuing  fortnight  or  three  weeks  we  rode 
all  day,  or  at  least  until  the  siesta-time,  in  the  hot 
sun,  endeavouring  to  reach  a  house  to  pass  the  hottest 
hours.  Houses  are  few  and  far  between  in  El 
Departamento  de  Bolivar,  and  now  and  then  we  had 
to  pass  the  siesta  under  the  trees,  by  river  banks, 
lighting  a  fire  to  keep  off  the  mosquitos,  and  sitting 
on  our  horse-gear  in  the  smoke. 

Haciendas,  large  and  small,  we  stopped  at  to 
inspect  the  cattle,  always  receiving  the  hearty 
welcome  that  distinguishes  the  Colombian.  I  used 
to  think  that,  in  addition  to  their  natural  kindness  and 
their  hospitality,  they  liked  us  in  our  character  of 
newspapers  ambulant.  Travellers  are  infrequent  in 
that  country,  and  news  a  rare  commodity,  and  as  it 
had  not  rained  for  full  five  months  the  tracks,  though 
good  to  travel  on,  were  pretty  nearly  waterless,  and 
pasturage  was  scarce. 

Though  not  unduly  curious  about  the  war  that 

1  Sobre-paso  is  the  over-pace  that  was  common  in  Europe  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  In  it  the  horse  gallops  with  front  and  shuffles  with 
the  hind  legs. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  209 

at  the  time  had  left  Colombia  untouched  economically, 
the  people  naturally  were  pleased  to   hear  about  it 
from  one,  who,  so  to  speak,  came  from  the  centre  of 
affairs.     Though  in  reality,  as  it  was  several  months 
since  I  had  left  home,  I  knew  but  little  more  of  what 
was  going  on  than  they  did,  I  found  myself  looked  on 
as  an  authority.     So  on  arriving  at  one  of  the  groups 
of  buildings  that  constitute  a  hacienda  in  Colombia, 
with  the  store,  overseer's  house,  corrals  for  cattle,  and 
the    dwelling-house — long,    low,  with   overhanging 
eaves  and  thick  thatch  roof — after  the  compliments 
that  are  necessary  had  been  interchanged,  the  drought 
discussed,  and  the  condition  of  the  cattle ;  inquiries 
made  as  to  whether  there  was  water  in  such  and  such  a 
place,  or  if  the  tigers  had  been  killing  many  calves,  and 
how  Don  Marcos  Fidel  Suarez'1  chances  were  looking 
for  the  approaching  presidential  election,  I  sat  down 
on  a  solid,  old  Spanish  chair,  seated  with  raw  hide, 
to  talk  of  strategy.     I  found  it  was  surprising  how 
much   I  knew  about    the    matter,  giving  my  views 
on    military    affairs    with,    I    hope,    accuracy.     The 
diplomatic  situation  was  far  easier.     As  every  South 
American  has  his  own  idea  upon  diplomacy,  I  used  to 
wait  until   my    host  delivered    his    opinions  on   the 
Balkan  question,  upon  the  attitude  of  Greece  and  of 
Roumania — on   the  necessity  of  a  free  Albania,  and 
whether  Enver  Pasha  and  Talaat  were  German  agents 
or  international  rogues.     Then  I   agreed  with  him 
upon  his  major  premises,  and  now  and  then  put  in  a 
query  or  hazarded  a  doubt  on  minor  matters,  saving 
my  face  and  his  as  far  as  possible. 

1  This  gentleman  eventually  became  president. 

14 


210  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Our  business  took  us  to  many  a  strange  corner,  for 
we  travelled  without  a  plan,  going  from  one  hacienda 
to  another,  where  the  greatest  quantity  of  cattle  were 
to  be  found.  In  none  of  them  were  there  the  vast 
herds  of  Brazil  or  of  the  Argentine,  or  those  of  Mexico. 
Perhaps  the  finest  hacienda  in  El  Departamento  de 
Bolivar  is  that  called  Berastegui.  It  has  been  in  the 
possession  of  the  same  family  since  the  days  of 
Charles  III.1  This  really  fine,  semi -feudal  place 
extends  to  about  thirty  thousand  acres,  and  contains 
some  of  the  richest  cattle  pasture  in  South  America. 
From  the  old-fashioned  hacienda  house,  with  its 
dependencies,  stores,  corrals,  and  peons'  huts,  a  vast  and 
open  plain  stretches  out,  dotted  with  palm-trees  here 
and  there.  On  the  horizon,  about  four  miles  away, 
is  a  low  range  of  hills,  which  are  included  in  the 
property.  As  the  plain  is  as  level  as  the  sea,  the  hills 
appear  immense  though  in  reality  not  more  than  three 
to  four  hundred  feet  in  height.  Feeding  in  the  tall 
Para  grass,  in  a  sea  of  green,  on  every  side  were  cattle, 
and  all  in  good  condition  in  spite  of  the  fierce  drought. 
Amongst  them  ran  three  or  four  Angus  bulls  that 
seemed  to  stand  the  rigorous  climate  to  perfection, 
looking  quite  sleek  and  fat. 

Some  wild  and  angry-looking  Venezuelan  bullocks 
with  enormous  horns  moved  away  with  their  heads 
high  in  the  air,  and  broke  into  a  trot,  a  hundred  yards 
or  so  away  from  where  we  rode.  The  rest  were  of 
quiet  Colombian  stock,  and  went  on  feeding  as  we 
passed  through  them,  though  there  were  six  or  seven 

1  Charles  III.  of  Spain  succeeded  to  the  throne  in  1759.     He 
had  previously  been  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies. 


CARTAGENA  DE  1NDIAS  211 

of  us  spread  out  in  a  long  line.  In  no  ranch  country 
in  the  world  have  I  seen  cattle  so  extraordinarily  tame, 
and  certainly  few  cattle  ranches  within  the  tropics 
finer  than  Berastegui. 

Water  is  permanent  on  the  hacienda,  and  the  cattle 
never  are  moved  to  marshes  in  long  droughts  as  is 
the  case  in  almost  every  other  place  in  the  hot  coast 
lands  of  Colombia. 

Life  on  the  hacienda  was  entirely  different  from 
that  of  Palmito,  for  we  sat  down  to  dinner  in  a  dining- 
room,  and  conversation  was  less  local  in  its  character, 
for  the  owners  of  the  place  had  travelled  widely,  had 
been  in  Paris,  and  spoke  French  and  English  fluently. 
Still  there  was  something  patriarchal  in  their  relation- 
ship to  their  dependents,  such  as  I  had  not  seen 
before  in  the  department.1  The  talk  in  the  veranda 
after  dinner  turned  upon  Venezuela.  It  appeared 
that  by  the  overland  route  it  took  the  cattle  at  least 
two  months  to  reach  the  Magdalena  River  at  El  Banco, 
a  little  port  from  where  they  were  ferried  over  and 
driven  down  to  the  coast  lands.  It  must  be  a  most 
interesting  trip  across  the  Andes  through  the  great 
forests  on  the  foothills,  and  down  the  trails  that  come 
out  in  many  places  on  the  River  Magdalena's  banks. 
The  country  that  lies  between  El  Banco  and  the 
Andes  is  some  of  the  wildest  in  the  republic.  Along 
the  banks  both  of  the  Rio  Cesar  and  the  Lebrija  are 
tribes  still  unsubdued.  Some  of  them  are  reported  to 
be  cannibals,  and  all  use  poisoned  arrows  of  an 
extremely  deadly  kind.  One  of  the  guests  had  made 
the  journey  and  had  much  lore  of  Venezuela  and  the 

1  Departamento  de  Bolivar. 


212  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

llaneros l  that  interested  me  greatly,  as  all  he  said 
reminded  me  so  much  of  the  gauchos  that  I 
remember  in  my  youth. 

Their  melancholy  songs,  mostly  of  horses,  of  love, 
and  of  revenge,  struck  me  as  almost  identical  with 
those  that  I  had  heard  long  years  ago  in  Entre 
Rios,  the  Banda  Oriental,  and  round  Bahia  Blanca,* 
when  it  was  exposed  to  Indian  raids.  These  songs 
were  as  interminable  as  were  "  forebitters "  in  the 
days  of  sailing  ships,  and  were  invariably  sung  in  a 
high  falsetto  voice  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  guitar, 
whose  strings  were  often  mended  with  raw  hide. 
The  guitar  used  to  be  passed  round  all  the  company, 
and  those  who  could  not  sing  declined  the  com- 
pliment saying,  "  I  am  not  a  musician"3  and  usually 
called  for  a  quart  of  wine  to  help  the  more  able 
throated  in  their  task. 

The  gaucho  and  the  llanero  of  the  Orinoco 
were  singularly  alike.  They  both  were  centaurs  ; 
both  were  taciturn,  hospitable,  kind,  bloodthirsty,  and 
vindictive ;  and  both  held  life  (their  own  and  that  of 
others)  the  cheapest  thing  in  the  whole  world. 
Curiously  enough  for  inland  peoples,  both  races  were 
great  swimmers  and  took  to  water  like  a  duck.     The 

1  "Llaneros" — i.e.,  inhabitants  of  the  llano,  the  plain.  The 
great  plains  that  stretch  to  the  north  of  the  Orinoco  have  always 
been  the  cradle  of  a  race  of  hardy  and  patriotic  men.  They  were 
the  backbone  of  the  armies  of  Paez  and  Bolivar  in  the  independence 
wars. 

2  It  is  now  a  great  and  flourishing  port,  with  several  lines  of  rail- 
way running  to  it.  I  remember  it  a  little  town  remote  from  civiliza- 
tion and  defended  by  one  or  two  little  forts  of  sun-dried  bricks  on 
which  several  little  brass  guns  were  mounted. 

8  "  No  soy  musico." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  213 

llaneros  lived  in  a  far  hotter  climate,  and  this  perhaps 
made  them  more  indolent  than  were  their  cousins  of 
the  south ;  but  speech  and  customs  were  very  similar, 
and  widely  different  from  those  to  be  observed 
throughout  America. 

The  following  stanza  of  a  song  I  heard  that 
evening,  might  have  been  sung  at  any  estancia  in 
Uruguay  or  in  Bahia  Blanca  in  days  gone  by : 

Por  los  anos  de  seisenta 

Pa'  cuidar  el  ganao 
Me  dieron  pa'  mi  silla 

Un  cabayito  melao.1 

All  the  adventures  of  the  llanero  and  his 
"  honey  "-coloured  horse  were  set  forth  in  great 
detail,  just  as  they  would  have  been  in  the  Argentine 
Republic,  in  the  same  syncopated  dialect  and  to  a 
similar  accompaniment. 

Fights,  cattle  robberies,  adventures  with  tigers 
and  with  crocodiles  carried  me  back  for  forty  years, 
with  but  the  difference  that  in  the  Argentina  they 
are  things  of  the  past,  and  on  the  Orinoco  are  in  full 
vigour  and  are  incidents  of  daily  life. 

Not  more  than  a  few  months  before  the  evening 
that  I  passed  at  Berastegui,  a  troop  of  bandits  had 
attacked  the  little  frontier  village  of  Arauca  (in 
Colombian  territory),  put  it  to  sack  and  pillage,  killed 
the  chief  magistrate,  cut  off  his  head  and  then  played 
football  with  it  in  the  square. 

The  deliberate  opinion  of  all  the  cattle-owners  at 
Berastegui    was    that    in    the    three   departments    of 

1  "  Melao  " — literally,  "  honey-coloured  " — is  applied  to  a  white 
horse  with  yellow  skin. 


2i4  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Bolivar,  Magdalena,  and  Atlantico,  there  was  room  for 
six  million  head  of  cattle,  three  million  in  Bolivar, 
and  at  least  three  in  the  two  adjoining  states.  Beyond 
the  Andes,  the  great  plains  between  the  Meta  and  the 
Orinoco  might  carry  several  million  head.  There 
are  still  cattle  districts  left  in  Colombia,  the  state  of 
Antioquia,  with  its  breed  of  beautiful  white  cattle 
with  black  ears,  unique  throughout  America  and  not 
unlike  the  native,  wild,  white  cattle  at  Lyme  and 
Chillingham.  The  Cauca  valley  at  present  may 
contain  two  hundred  thousand  head,  and  so  on  of 
the  other  districts,  as  Boyaca,  Tolima,  and  the  plains 
on  the  Patia  close  to  the  frontier  of  Ecuador. 

Everyone  at  Berastegui  considered  that  the 
immediate  future  of  the  country  was  bound  up  in 
cattle- raising.  Though,  of  course,  it  can  never  support 
such  immense  herds  as  the  Argentine,  Brazil,  or 
Venezuela,  it  is  the  nearest  great  stock-raising 
country  by  several  days  to  Europe,  and,  of  course, 
nearer  to  the  United  States. 

In  the  old  mansion  of  Berastegui,  with  its  wide- 
spreading  eaves,  its  groups  of  trees  on  every  side,  and 
the  great  plain  stretching  out  to  the  low  hills,  there 
was  an  air  as  of  an  older  world.  The  proprietors,  all 
descended  from  the  early  settlers,  were  educated  men 
and  yet  born  horsemen  and  accustomed  to  wild  life. 
Most  of  them  had  been  through  several  revolutions  ; 
but  all  of  them  saw  clearly  that  their  country  wanted 
peace,  and  none  seemed  to  love  fighting  for  its  own 
sake,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Mexicans. 

The  small  hours  found  us  talking  over  things 
and  others,  of  monstrous  boa-constrictors,  and  how 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  215 

a  foolish  peon  had  lassoed  a  jaguar  and  been  nearly 
mauled  to  death,  with  many  other  feats  by  flood  and 
field,  told  with  due  emphasis. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  we  had  only  just  settled 
down  in  our  hammocks  when  a  peon  came  round 
with  the  black  coffee  to  say  that  in  another  half- 
hour  it  would  be  daylight,  and  it  was  time  to  rise 
and  ride  again. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

The  sun  was  just  rising  over  the  forest  behind  the 
house,  and  its  reflected  light  lit  up  the  plain  in  front, 
leaving  the  distant  hills  floating  in  a  sea  of  mist,  as  we 
mounted  our  horses  to  leave  Berastegui.  Great  dew- 
drops  fell  off  the  steeply  thatched  roof,  upon  the  ground. 
The  horses  played  with  their  bits,  put  their  backs  up, 
and  danced  about  in  the  freshness  of  the  morning  air. 

Flights  of  macaws  were  on  the  wing  towards  their 
feeding-grounds.  The  cattle  were  all  stringing  out, 
like  pictures  of  big  game  in  Africa,  in  books  by 
Livingstone  and  Galton,  towards  the  water-holes. 

Upon  a  sandy  place  beside  a  stream  one  of  the 
peons  pointed  out  a  tiger's  trail  looking  exactly  like 
the  footprints  of  a  cat  enormously  enlarged. 

Beside  the  river  a  capybara x  scuttled  through  the 
reeds  and  took  the  water,  with  his  back  awash 
exactly  like  a  hippopotamus  in  miniature. 

As  we  passed  through  the  high  potrero  gate  into 
the  woods  beyond,  the  hacienda  of  Berastegui,  seen 
for  a  moment  from  the  forest  path,  looked  like  a 
woodcut  in  an  old  book  of  travels,  then  vanished  into 
the  book  of  memories,  that  the  mind  keeps,  ever  half- 
shut,  half-open,  according  to  one's  moods. 

1  The  carpi ncho  of  the  Argentine  Republic.  He  is  the  largest 
of  the  rodents,  and  amphibious.  Naturalists  call  the  poor  beast 
Hydrochaerus  capybara.     In  Colombia  the  local  name  is  "  ponche." 

216 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  217 

Almost  immediately  the  freshness  of  the  morning 
disappeared,  and  on  the  forest  trail  the  sand  heated  up 
as  it  were  by  magic,  and  yet  the  smell  of  the  wet  leaves 
and  flowers  just  dried,  hung  in  the  air  and  scented 
everything.  As  we  struck  into  the  forest  path  we 
bade  good-bye  to  the  open  plains  of  the  Sinu. 

These  plains,  fertilized  by  the  deposit  left  by  the 
River  Sinu  in  its  annual  flood,  resemble  Egypt  in  their 
productiveness,  though  quite  unlike  it  in  the  richness  of 
their  vegetation.  In  this  respect  no  country  of  the  Old 
World,  except  Ceylon,  Java,  and  Singapore,  can  hold 
a  candle  to  it.  There  is  something  hungry-looking 
about  the  richest  bush  in  Africa  that  differentiates  it 
from  the  same  kind  of  country  in  the  Americas.  It 
may  be  something  in  the  soil  itself  that  also  causes  the 
extreme  difference  to  be  observed  in  the  action  of 
the  sun  upon  the  human  organism. 

Even  in  Morocco  sunstroke  is  frequent  and  ten 
times  more  so  in  the  Soudan,  in  India,  and  throughout 
the  tropics  of  the  Old  World.  In  them,  no  sane  man 
ventures  in  the  sun  without  a  solar  topee ;  in  the 
Americas  a  man  may  wear  an  ordinary,  soft,  felt  hat  in 
perfect  safety.  The  solar  topee  is  unknown,  and  the 
Panama  straw  hat,  which  is  perhaps  the  worst  defence 
against  the  sun  imaginable,  is  used  throughout  the 
central  and  northern  parts  of  South  America. 

The  district  towards  which  the  deeply  shaded 
forest  path  was  leading  us  was  quite  distinct  in 
character  from  those  of  the  Sinu. 

The  path  itself  ran  through  a  wall  of  forest  and 
reminded  me  of  the  paths  I  had  ridden  through 
long  years  ago  in  Paraguay,  although  the  vegetation  of 


218  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Colombia  is  even  more  luxuriant  and  overwhelming 
and  more  menacing  in  its  invading  air  of  strength. 

Bird  life  was  scarce,  as  it  is  usually  in  tropic  woods ; 
but  in  the  clearing  humming-birds  hovered  over 
flowering  shrubs  and  yellow  toucans  occasionally 
flew  past.  Sometimes  I  think  I  heard  the  harsh  notes 
of  the  tropial,  but  never  once  the  bell-bird  as  in 
Paraguay,  where  sometimes  it  sounds  its  note  so  like  a 
chapel  bell,  I  have  thought  that  I  was  near  a  settle- 
ment, when  many  miles  away. 

Now  and  again  where  trees  had  fallen  a  shaft  of 
light  lit  up  the  gloom  of  the  dark  path,  just  as  an  air 
shaft  lets  in  the  light  in  a  long  tunnel  in  a  railway. 

Occasionally  scurrying  along  at  a  fast  "  pace,"  we 
met  a  traveller,  who  always  stopped  to  hear  the  news 
and  light  a  cigarette,  as  we  sat  underneath  the  shade 
of  some  thick,  spreading  tree. 

This  function  of  exchanging  and  transmitting 
news  is  an  art  that  everybody  understands  in  countries 
where  the  distances  between  the  towns  are  long, 
communications  difficult,  and  posts  are  rare  and 
unreliable. 

To  the  native  of  such  lands  the  art  is  inborn  and 
he  knows,  as  it  were  by  instinct,  what  tinge  to  give  it 
so  as  to  make  it  palatable  to  the  receiver's  ear.  Just 
as  two  painters  draw  a  face,  intelligent  and  in- 
teresting, or  dull  and  plain,  according  to  the  vision  of 
their  minds,  so  does  your  perfect  transmitter  of  the 
news  tinge  it  with  what  he  thinks  will  please  you  ;  and 
yet  the  news  and  painter's  model  are  unchanged. 
All's  in  the  art  that  makes  them  interesting  or  leaves 
them  duller  than  they  are. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  219 

Often  these  meetings  in  the  forest  path  took  place 
just  at  a  clearing  so  that  the  riders  were  illumined  as 
by  a  halo,  whilst  we  remained  in  shade.  We  used  to 
pass  the  time  of  day,  exchange  a  cigarette,  unpack  our 
news,  and  separate  upon  our  several  ways,  like  ships 
at  sea  that  speak  each  other  and  sail  on. 

On  the  wide,  open  prairie,  and  the  steep  mountain 
trail,  in  the  dark  forest  paths,  such  as  that  from 
Berastegui,  and  countless  others  in  Mexico,  Brazil,  and 
Paraguay,  I  have  crossed  travellers  and  hope  that  I 
live  in  their  memories,  as  they  still  live  in  mine,  with 
all  their  turns  of  gesture  and  of  speech,  their  horses* 
colours  and  their  brands  as  deeply  burned  into  my 
brain  as  they  were  burned  upon  their  hips,  and  the  last 
flutter  of  their  ponchos  as  they  turned  to  go  still  in 
the  corner  of  my  eye. 

Let  them  all  go  with  God,  wherever  they  were 
going  to. 

They  cannot  take  themselves  out  of  my  memory, 
and  in  some  limbo  or  another,  some  place  where 
horses  never  tire,  nor  riders  stiffen,  where  camping- 
grounds  are  always  well  supplied  with  water  and  with 
grass,  perhaps  we  all  may  meet  again  and  ride. 

Even  dark  forest  paths  must  have  an  ending,  and 
this  one  came  out  at  a  little  settlement  called  La 
Cienaga  de  Oro — that  is,  the  Golden  Marsh. 

Lost  in  the  woods  and  quite  unchanged,  I  should 
suppose,  since  its  foundation  by  some  unknown 
conqueror,  the  little  hamlet  lay  with  its  little  church 
standing  out  like  a  lighthouse  over  the  sea  of  green. 

A  nephew  of  the  owners  of  Berastegui,  a  student 
of  something  or  another  in  Cartagena,  upon  his  long 


/ 

220  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

vacation,  accompanied  us,  riding  a  pacing  mule.  He 
was  supposed  to  know  the  road ;  but  had  we  followed 
his  advice  we  might  have  found  ourselves  lost  in  the 
forest  at  least  a  dozen  times,  for  he  branched  off  on 
any  little  trail  that  crossed  the  path,  announcing  that 
by  following  it  we  should  save  several  miles.  As 
upon  leaving  the  hacienda  the  sun  was  on  the  near 
side  of  the  horses,  and  we  knew  that  the  road  ran 
east  and  west,  once  was  enough,  and  we  refused  to 
follow  him  after  his  first  essay  had  landed  us  in  front 
of  a  great  pool  carpeted  over  with  the  Victoria  Regia 
and  quite  unfordable. 

When  after  several  plunges  up  to  our  girths  we 
had  got  back  to  the  highroad,  we  quite  dispensed 
with  him  as  guide,  although  we  kept  him  as  a 
philosopher  and  friend. 

He  also  had  a  pistol  without  cartridges,  just  as  in 
days  gone  by  in  England,  when  all  wore  swords,  men 
of  his  stamp  had  their  swords  rusted  in  the  sheath  and 
quite  undrawable  from  disuse.  Still,  in  each  case  the 
unlethal  weapon  proclaimed  their  status  as  a  gentle- 
man. Though  quite  unarmed,  he  yet  was  furnished 
against  the  usual  ills  that  may  beset  Colombian 
humanity.  His  tube  of  aspirin  was  ever  ready ;  his 
vial  of  "Curarina,"  sovereign  for  snake-bites,  peeped 
from  the  habit  of  his  coat. 

Few  go  abroad  in  the  coast  lands  of  the  republic 
without  this  much  approved  specific,  sold  at  one  dollar 
in  all  pharmacies.  Its  fame  has  not  been  dimmed 
by  the  disconcerting  circumstance  that  its  inventor, 
after  having  realized  a  handsome  competence  by  its 
sale,  chanced  to  be  bitten  by  a  snake.     The  poor  man 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  221 

swallowed  a  whole  bottle  of  his  stuff  immediately, 
and  died  within  the  hour.  Some  were  so  cruel  as  to 
say  the  snake  that  bit  him  was  of  a  harmless  species 
and  that  he  died  of  his  own  medicine. 

Colombia  is  a  land  of  snakes,  and  yet  one  thinks 
but  little  of  them,  in  the  same  way  that  death  occupies 
little  of  one's  thoughts,  though  ever  imminent.  To 
be  bitten  in  the  wilds  is  generally  to  die,  though  now 
and  then  the  actual  cautery  and  whisky  in  large 
quantities  may  chance  to  make  a  cure.  When  in 
spite  of  our  blind  guide  we  reached  La  Cienega  de 
Oro,  it  turned  out  that  he  had  a  harmless  and  perhaps 
unnecessary  wife  domiciled  in  the  place.  She  and 
her  family  received  us  hospitably.  On  the  veranda  of 
the  house  the  children  were  playing  with  a  tiger  cub 
about  the  size  of  a  large  cat.  It  appeared  desperately 
savage  and  snarled  at  anyone  it  did  not  know,  though 
with  the  children  it  was  tame  enough.  The  people 
of  the  place  had  taken  it  alive  and  killed  its  mother. 
They  said  when  it  was  six  months  old  it  would  be  far 
too  dangerous  to  keep.  Unlike  the  puma,  that  often 
makes  a  perfectly  safe  pet  and  is  known  in  some  of  the 
republics  as  "  the  friend  of  man," — the  jaguar  is  quite 
untamable.  Whilst  the  horses  fed,  we  went  down 
to  what  the  people  called  an  oil  spring,  and  skimmed 
off  about  a  pint  of  raw  petroleum  from  the  surface  of 
the  spring  with  a  large  kitchen  spoon.  It  must  have 
risen  from  some  source  or  other  farther  up  the  stream, 
which  no  doubt  some  day  will  be  found  and  the  oil 
bored  for  scientifically. 

The  country  round  the  Cienega  de  Oro  is  open, 
with  occasional  low  hills,  and  much  more  like  the 


222  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

pampas  of  the  Argentine  Republic  in  its  character, 
than  are  the  banks  of  the  Sinu.  Towns  dot  it  here 
and  there,  and  all  of  them  are  curiously  different  from 
each  other.  This  is  due  partly  to  their  extremely 
different  positions,  and  partly  to  the  lack  of  com- 
munications and  of  roads.  This  has  imprinted  special 
features  upon  all  of  them.  Thus  Sincelejo  is  a  city 
set  upon  a  hill,  and  stands  nearly  six  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea.  Its  population  may  be  about  ten 
thousand,  more  or  less,  for  naturally  there  are  no 
figures  to  rely  upon.  The  streets  are  hilly,  with  now 
and  then  a  boulder  cropping  up  in  them,  and  appear 
at  one  time  to  have  been  cattle  tracks,  upon  whose 
edges  houses  have  been  built  irregularly.  Still,  there 
are  one  or  two  short  arcaded  streets  after  the  pattern 
of  a  town  in  the  Castiles.  An  enormous  and  barn- 
like church  dominates  the  place.  The  bells  ring 
constantly,  and,  as  throughout  Colombia  the  people 
are  religious,  or  at  the  least  observant,  on  Sundays  and 
upon  saints'  days  it  is  crowded  to  the  door. 

Syrians  as  usual  keep  the  stores,  and  chaffer  in 
their  guttural  Spanish  even  more  determinedly  than 
the  Colombians  themselves.  The  stores  contain  all 
the  unconsidered  trifles  necessary  in  little  towns  in 
South  America  —  things  that  few  people  could 
possibly  require  and  even  so  on  credit.  But,  besides 
these,  they  are  marvellously  well  supplied  with 
electric  torches,  celluloid  spectacles  that  look  like 
tortoiseshell,  kodaks,  and  in  general  all  those  products 
of  modern  life  that  naturally  appeal  so  much  to 
people  who,  living  in  a  world  that  has  stood  still  for 
centuries,  grasp  at  all  newness  with  avidity.     There 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  223 

are  no  drinking-bars,  such  as  are  to  be  found  in  nearly 
every  town  in  Argentina ;  no  cinemas ;  no  hooligans ; 
no  poor  ;  few  rich;  and,  in  general,  life  rolls  along 
pleasantly  enough. 

The  hotel  was  a  sort  of  cross  between  a  Spanish 
venta  and  a  Mexican  meson,  both  of  which  institu- 
tions owe  their  genesis  to  the  Oriental  caravanserai. 
Perhaps  the  Colombian  establishment  was  superior  in 
comfort  to  either  of  them.  In  the  meson  there  is  a 
vault-like,  spotlessly  clean  room  with  a  plaster  step  in 
it,  on  which  you  lay  your  saddle-gear  to  form  a  bed. 
The  key  is  solemnly  delivered  to  you,  as  in  the  East, 
and  may  be  six  or  more  inches  long.  No  food  is  to 
be  procured.  You  have  to  go  out  on  the  plaza,  and, 
seated  at  a  table,  eat  stews  cooked  with  red  pepper, 
and  the  tortillas  that  take  the  place  of  bread.  Your 
horses  drink  at  a  trough,  and  someone  almost  certainly 
is  there  to  sell  you  corn  and  the  chopped  straw 
they  eat.  In  the  Spanish  venta  the  only  differ- 
ence to  be  found  is  that  the  room  is  dirty  and 
the  key  a  foot  in  length.  In  the  Spanish  hostelry 
you  ride  in  through  the  kitchen  and  leave  your  horse 
tied  in  a  dark  and  filthy  stable  and  take  your  meals  in 
a  room  above  it,  so  that  in  the  frequent  pauses  in  your 
meal  you  hear  the  animals  stamping  at  flies  and 
munching  at  their  corn. 

In  Sincelejo  you  have  to  take  your  horses  out  to 
grass  and  swelter  in  the  sun,  watching  them  graze 
tormented  by  the  flies,  water  and  bathe  them,  and 
then  buy  corn  for  them,  and  stand  by  whilst  they 
feed  to  stop  the  grain  from  being  stolen. 

Meals  in    the  hotel  were  served  under  a  trellis- 


224  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

work,  shaded  with  creepers,  and  were  both  plentiful 
and  good. 

The  company  was  varied  and  pleasant  in  the 
main.  An  Antioquian  shopkeeper  on  his  way  to 
the  coast  was  an  active,  pushing,  and  a  business  man 
down  to  his  finger-tips,  like  all  his  countrymen. 
Tall,  clean,  intelligent,  and  absolutely  white,  these 
people  form  a  sort  of  caste  apart,  and  differ  totally 
from  all  their  countrymen.  Some  say  they  are 
descendants  of  the  Jews  of  Spain,  and  others  say  they 
are  Moriscos  who  escaped  and  coming  to  the  Indies 
changed  their  faith,  but  not  their  nature,  for  the 
Moriscos  were  born  traders  and  good  business  men. 
This  may  be  so,  but  it  would  seem  more  probable 
that  they  came  from  the  Biscay  provinces,  for  they 
resemble  the  Biscayans  in  character  and  type. 

All  over  the  republic  you  are  sure  to  meet  them, 
and  in  their  province  no  Syrian  is  to  be  found, 
just  as  no  Jews  are  said  to  thrive  in  Aberdeen,  the 
natives  of  both  countries  being  as  keen  in  money 
matters  as  the  best  Israelite.  The  Antioquians  no 
doubt  are  the  backbone  of  the  republic  of  Colombia, 
and,  as  is  frequently  the  case  with  peoples  of  the  kind, 
are  quite  well  satisfied  both  with  themselves  and  the 
position  that  they  occupy.  This  is  the  case  with  the 
Catalonians  in  Spain.  Some  people  have  observed  it 
of  the  Scottish  race,  although  I  have  good  reasons  to 
suppose,  this  is  a  calumny. 

Two  of  the  wandering  Chinese  pedlars  who  are 
to  be  found  in  most  of  the  coast  towns  throughout 
Colombia  appeared  during  the  dinner  and  talked 
in   pidgin-Spanish,    entering    into   the   conversation, 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  225 

although  not  sitting  down  to  table;  but, in  Colombia, 
as  in  old-fashioned  towns  in  Spain,  the  servants 
all  talk  during  the  meals  upon  an  equal  footing 
with  the  guests.  We  did  not  purchase  any  of  their 
goods,  but  that  did  not  impair  their  imperturbable 
good  humour,  and  they  continued  talking  pleasantly, 
occasionally  bringing  out  silks  and  little  boxes  that 
they  put  back  again,  when  no  one  bought  them,  with 
an  air  of  being  pleased. 

The  Antioquian,  a  man  of  observation  and  a 
humorist,  told  us  that  once,  in  a  small  ranche  town  in 
the  plains  of  Venezuela,  called  San  Fernando  de  Apure,. 
he  had  been  present  during  the  feast  of  Corpus 
Christi  and  watched  the  usual  procession  of  the  saints 
that  in  such  places  are  carried  through  the  streets* 
This  ceremony,  known  familiarly  as  "  taking  out  the 
blocks," *  always  creates  enthusiasm  and  collects  a 
crowd.  By  his  side  a  Chinaman  was  standing,  and 
the  Antioquian  said  to  him,  "  What  kind  of  gods 
have  you  in  China  ?  Do  they  look  like  these  ?"  The 
Chinaman  took  a  long  look  at  the  procession,  thought 
for  a  little,  and  rejoined,  "  Ours  are  far  better ;  they 
are  made  of  bronze." 

A  philosophical  answer,  if  you  look  at  it  in  an 
impartial  spirit,  for  certainly  a  brazen  god  is  far  more 
durable  than  one  hewn  out  of  wood. 

An  officer  or  two,  a  wandering  student,  and  an 
Italian  santero — that  is,  a  saint-seller — comprised  our 
company,  and  though  the  story  of  the  Chinese  gods 
was  rather  personal  to  one  who  dealt  in  plaster  figures 
of  the  saints,  he  laughed  as  heartily  as  any  of  us,  and 
1  "  Sacar  los  bultos." 

15 


226  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

did  not  seem  annoyed,  remarking  with  a  smile,  "  Bronze 
gods  would  last  too  long  to  be  good  business ;  mine 
break  easily,  and  that  is  good  for  trade." 

Quite  a  philosopher  was  the  saint-seller,  although 
perhaps  his  table  manners  lacked  subtlety,  and  his 
economies,  although  sound  enough,  were  brutally 
expressed. 

The  two  Colombian  officers,  slight,  elegant,  and 
looking  rather  like  flies  in  a  milk-pot,  with  their  dark 
faces  and  their  white  uniforms,  regarded  the  Italian  as 
curiously  as  if  he  had  been  some  sort  of  strange 
marsupial  animal,  for  they  were  educated  men  and 
liberals,  opposed  to  priestcraft  and  its  works,  and  yet 
perhaps,  after  the  fashion  of  some  anticlerical  Spanish 
Americans,  may  have  gone  out  and  bought  a  little 
plaster  image  from  the  wandering  saint-seller,  as  it 
were,  on  the  sly. 

A  curious  little  town  is  Sincelejo,  a  sort  of 
rallying-place  and  centre  for  the  trade  of  the  surround- 
ing country,  with  an  individuality  of  its  own,  for  in  it 
the  Old  World  still  lingers,  and  yet  much  trade  is  done 
and  business  carried  on  with  the  United  States. 

Nothing  could  well  be  more  unlike  Sincelejo  than 
is  Corozal,1  the  town  from  which  the  celebrated  cattle 
plains,  known  as  Los  Llanos  de  Corozal,  are  named. 

The  road  between  Sincelejo  and  Corozal  is  infamous 
for  unshod  horses  in  the  dry  season,  for  here  and 
there  great  tracks  of  gravel,  extending  to  a  mile,  cover 
its  surface  and  soon  make  horses'  feet  too  tender  for 
the    road.       Sometimes    the    track    winds    into    the 

1  The  corozo  is  a  species  of  palm-tree.     Corozal  is  a  grove  of 
corozos.     This  palm  bears  an  oily  nut. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  227 

primeval  woods,  following  a  watercourse  that  when 
we  travelled  it  was  dry.  How  in  the  season  of  the 
rains  people  can  use  it  as  a  road  is  a  mystery,  for  the 
dry  stream  is  bounded  by  high  banks.  Sheets  of  flat 
rock  surround  the  town,  reminding  one  of  the 
approaches  to  towns  that  I  have  seen  in  the  Atlas 
Mountains,  or  in  Lower  Aragon.  It  was  just  getting 
dark  as  we  stumbled  and  slithered  on  the  rocks,  and 
the  town  was  desolate  and  dark. 

It  boasted  an  hotel  of  quite  a  different  kind  from 
that  in  Sincelejo,  and  may  have  been  the  house  of  some 
old-fashioned  family  of  local  magnates  and  had  seen 
better  days. 

It  reminded  me  of  a  posada  in  the  outlying 
districts  of  Castile,  for  there  was  no  one  to  receive 
us,  not  even  dogs  to  bay,  as  we  rode  up  to  the  front 
door. 

So  desolate  it  seemed,  I  thought  it  was  deserted, 
and  feared  we  should  have  to  call  upon  the  priest 
and  ask  for  a  night's  lodging  or  try  if  any  Syrian  store- 
keeper would  take  compassion  on  our  plight.  But 
before  doing  so  we  rode  through  the  front  door  into 
an  inner  courtyard,  where  in  the  increasing  darkness 
I  discerned  a  man  sitting  in  an  old  Spanish  chair, 
tilted  against  the  wall. 

He  welcomed  us,  if  the  word  applies  to  such  a 
perfunctory  act,  into  the  gaunt,  dark  house.  It  soon 
appeared  that  there  was  plenty  of  everything,  that  we 
had  brought  ourselves.  Except  a  venta  in  Castile,  or, 
to  be  more  accurate,  in  some  old  Spanish  book  of 
travels,  perhaps  no  such  hotel  exists  as  the  drear 
hostelry  of  Corozal. 


228  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Civility  was  the  one  sauce  to  every  dish,  and,  to  be 
candid,  with  it,  even  hunger  is  more  bearable.  We 
sallied  out  and  bought  provisions  and  some  candles, 
whilst  supper  was  in  preparation,  and  we  were  wise  in 
doing  so.  Sardines  and  cheese  with  Spanish  raisins 
are  a  fit  feast  for  hungry  kings ;  moreover,  they  are 
standard  eatables  in  every  one  of  the  republics  in  South 
America.  It  may  be  that  in  monarchies  they  would 
seem  exiguous  ;  but  in  a  democratic  state,  and  after  a 
hard  ride,  they  are  as  filling  as  was  the  black  broth 
and  the  cheese  of  Sparta  to  its  citizens. 

As  we  were  in  the  position  of  the  devil — that  is, 
our  time  in  Corozal  was  short ;  for  few  would  choose 
to  make  a  long  stay  in  the  curious,  old,  rocky-streeted 
town,  unless  he  were  a  Daniel  Vierge  looking  for 
landscapes  and  for  settings  for  a  life  of  Don  Quixote — 
we  lighted  the  whole  packet  of  old-fashioned  candles 
and  surveyed  the  room  that  fate  had  brought  us  into. 
The  light  revealed  an  enormous,  vaulted  chamber  that 
seemed  to  have  been  part  of  some  ancient  Spanish 
mansion,  built  in  the  early  years  of  the  first  conquest. 
A  ruined  chandelier  covered  with  yellow  gauze  and 
fly-blown,  till  it  looked  like  a  lady's  spotted  veil,  hung 
in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

Two  chairs;  two  beds,  with  their  accompanying 
mosquito  curtains  hung  from  a  bar  capped  with  a 
tarnished  crown  in  ormolu ;  a  little  table ;  and  a  tin 
washing-stand  with  an  earthen  pitcher  in  it,  comprised 
the  furniture.  Upon  the  walls  was  hung  a  coloured 
print  of  Gower  Street  Station,  in  the  unreformed, 
underground  railway,  showing  a  train  disappearing 
into  an  Avernus  in  wreaths  of  volleying  smoke.     In 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  229 

the  chief  place  of  honour,  but  all  askew,  was  a  print 
of  Simon  Bolivar,  El  Libertador  himself,  directing  the 
entire  Colombian  forces  at  the  crowning  victory  of 
Boyaca. 

A  cheap  and  German  picture  of  a  saint — St. 
Anthony  of  Padua,  if  my  memory  serves  me — hung 
facing  the  Liberator.  These  were  the  decorations  of 
the  apartment,  unless  about  a  dozen  bats,  that  circled 
round  about  our  heads,  might  count  as  ornaments. 

Supper  was  rather  a  fragmentary  meal,  for  the 
boiled  rice  and  leathery  beef-stew,  that  after  a  long 
wait  made  its  appearance,  was  not  inviting.  The 
bats  swooped  down  at  intervals  like  harpies,  and  the 
mosquitos  sounded  their  shrill  horn.  Centipedes 
crawled  on  the  walls,  threatening  to  fall  on  to  the 
plates.  We  ate  some  of  the  stew  unwillingly,  not  to 
offend  the  host,  and  luckily  two  or  three  dogs  came  in 
and  helped  us  in  our  task. 

The  night  was  interesting,  for  a  fierce  storm  arose. 
The  lightning  now  and  then  lit  up  the  gaunt  apart- 
ment, making  effects  upon  the  walls  and  on  the  roof 
as  in  a  theatre.  These  sort  of  nights  are  worth  a 
whole  long  day  of  riding  in  the  sun — that  is,  to  recollect 
them  with  all  the  little  irritations  softened  by  time 
and  distance,  and  the  effect  left  clear  upon  the  mind. 

Throughout  the  province  there  are  several  little 
towns  upon  the  central  plateau  much  like  Corozal : 
one  called  Oveja  almost  as  curious.  The  road  to 
it  from  Corozal  is  five -and- twenty  miles,  hilly  and 
broken  and  quite  uninhabited. 

When  we  arrived  there  it  was  raining,  and  the 
thermometer    may    have    stood  about    ninety-six,  or, 


230  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

perhaps,  a  hundred  degrees.  Our  host,  an  ancient,  revo- 
lutionary colonel,  now  turned  a  storekeeper,  regretted 
bitterly  that  he  had  not  a  bottle  of  old  rum  to  offer  us, 
for  he  knew  well  (he  said)  that  Englishmen  looked  on 
it  as  a  first  necessity  of  life — at  least,  some  mining 
engineers  who  had  passed  by  the  town  a  month  ago 
had  drunk  two  bottles  of  it. 

Twenty-five  miles  or  so  of  hill  and  dale,  and  now 
and  then  of  stretches  of  thick  forest,  lie  between 
Oveja  and  El  Carmen,  a  town  that  lies  on  a  flat  plain, 
surrounded  by  plantations  of  tobacco,  that  at  the  time 
I  visited  the  place  were  quite  neglected,  for  all  their 
produce  used  to  go  to  Hamburg,  there  to  be  dressed 
and  worked  into  cigars  that  were  exported  to 
America  with  a  Habana  label  on  the  box.  El  Carmen 
and  the  town  of  Monteria  are  the  two  hottest  places 
in  the  department.  The  sun  pours  down  on  both  of 
them  like  boiling  metal  from  a  blast  furnace,  yet  they 
are  healthy,  and  Monteria  especially  so,  in  spite  of  the 
great  heat. 

These  inland  towns  and  others — such  as  San  Juan 
Nepomuceno,  stuck  upon  a  hill,  San  Cayetano,  on  the 
edge  of  a  primeval  forest,  and  Sahagun,  right  in  the 
midst  of  a  wide  plain,  the  last  well  built  and  with 
wide  streets  and  a  fine  church  dating  from  Spanish 
times — are  amongst  the  most  remote  and  curious  little 
places  that  I  have  seen  in  South  America,  except  in 
Paraguay. 

Till  yesterday  but  little  breath  from  the  outside 
world  has  penetrated  to  them,  and  they  have  slumbered 
on.  Perhaps  to  say  that  they  have  slumbered  is 
unfair,   for   what  is   progress,  after   all,  except    as  it 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  231 

affects  the  mind  and  the  intelligence?  Although 
material  progress  has  been  scant  enough  for  the  last 
fifty  years,  culture  and  education  seem  to  me  upon  a 
higher  level  in  this  group  of  little  towns  than  in  the 
country  towns  of  Mexico  and  of  the  Argentine 
Republic. 

Naturally  everyone  makes  verses,  for  that  is  quite 
endemic  in  Colombia ;  but  in  addition  those  who  can 
afford  them  buy  books  and  newspapers,  and  many 
followed  all  the  phases  of  the  war  in  Europe  quite  as 
intelligently  as  in  most  European  towns. 

I  left  them  with  regret,  and  after  wandering  about 
from  one  town  to  another,  now  riding  through  dense 
forests,  and  again  leading  our  horses  up  and  down 
the  hills,  then  passing  open  plains,  sun-swept  and 
quite  deserted,  as  the  cattle  had  been  driven  to  the 
swamps,  we  set  our  faces  towards  the  Magdalena 
River  upon  the  homeward  trail. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

The  westward  trail  left  Sahagun,  a  curious  little  place 
in  which  the  trees  impinge  upon  the  houses,  and  the 
houses  run  into  the  woods  irregularly. 

Still,  a  place  that  insists  and  stamps  itself  upon  the 
memory,  on  account  of  its  gigantic  plaza,  resembling 
that  of  Cerete  on  the  Sinii,  and  its  two  or  three  wide 
streets  that  appear  uninhabited  but  yet  give  you  the 
impression  that  eyes  are  watching  you  as  you  ride 
past,  and  make  you  straighten  yourself  up  and  feel 
your  horse's  mouth,  so  that  he  makes  the  best 
appearance  to  the  invisible,  but  subtly  felt  critic, 
possibly  peeping  through  the  blinds.  Just  outside 
Sahagun,  before  the  road  enters  upon  an  open  plain, 
in  a  little  clearing  in  the  wood,  there  is  a  cemetery, 
one  of  those  desolate  Colombian  cemeteries  that  are 
amongst  the  most  forlorn  of  any  of  their  kind. 
Sometimes  a  wall  of  sun-dried  bricks  surrounds  them, 
sometimes  a  rusty,  barbed-wire  fence. 

In  any  case  there  is  a  gateway  built  of  adobe, 
painted  originally  white  or  a  pale  lemon  colour,  but 
bleached  by  sun  and  rain  into  an  indistinguishable 
smear.  The  gate  is  almost  off  the  hinges  and  is 
blistered  by  the  sun.  The  crosses  usually  are  of  iron 
and  almost  always  stand  askew.     Wild  animals  make 

232 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  233 

little  paths  amongst  the  graves,  and  now  and  then  an 
armadillo  has  his  lair  in  one  of  them.  All  is  so  sun- 
dried  and  so  neglected-looking,  that  as  you  pass  the 
gate,  you  involuntarily  compassionate  those  who  lie 
in  the  sandy  sepulchres,  exposed  in  death,  as  they 
have  been  in  life,  to  a  continual  battle  with  the  sun. 

No  flowers  are  ever  placed  upon  the  graves,  or, 
if  they  are,  they  are  so  soon  burned  up  it  is  the  same 
as  if  they  never  had  been  put  there,  and  the  dead  seem 
more  forgotten  and  alone  than  they  could  be  in  any 
other  cemetery  in  the  world.  Better  by  far  than  this 
is  an  unfenced  Moorish  graveyard  with  its  rough 
stones  buried  in  lentiscus-bushes  cut  by  a  hundred 
paths,  for  everyone  rides  through  them.  There  at 
the  least  the  dead  may  hear  the  footfalls  of  the  passing 
horses  or  the  mules — sounds  that  have  been  familiar  in 
their  lives. 

As  you  pass  by  a  graveyard  such  as  that  of 
Sahagun,  it  would  be  vain  to  drop  a  tear,  for  it  would 
evaporate  before  it  reached  the  ground.  You  can  but 
look  at  it  and  hope  that  those  who  lie  beneath  the 
sand  are  not  disturbed  by  the  harsh  cry  of  the 
macaws. 

The  trail  runs  out  into  the  open  plains,  but  plains 
dotted  with  islands  and  cut  by  peninsulas  of  wood. 
At  last  these  disappear  and  leave  a  steppe,  all  full  of 
anthills,  and,  at  the  season  of  the  year  we  crossed  it,  as 
brown  and  bare  as  is  the  Sahara  below  Morocco  at  the 
Sahiat-el-Hamara. 

In  the  great  droughts  the  people  burn  the  woods 
to  open  up  new  pasture-lands,  and  as  we  rode,  on  the 
horizon  we  saw  the  virgin  forest  all  aflame,  a  miserable 


234  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

sight,  and  comparable  to  the  action  of  a  man  who  lies 
in  wait  for  someone,  kills  him,  and  throws  his  money 
down  a  well. 

In  a  cattle-breeding  country  it  may  be  necessary  to 
clear  fresh  pastures,  but  to  burn  trees  hundreds  of 
years  of  age  is  a  sin  against  nature  and  should  be 
dealt  with  by  the  law.  A  light  breeze  blew  the 
ashes  of  the  burning  forest  towards  us.  They  fell 
upon  our  hair  and  clung  upon  the  horses'  coats.  It 
made  one  wish  to  rend  one's  clothes,  to  think  of  the 
destruction  of  so  much  beauty  in  such  a  wanton  way. 
Labour  is  scarce  and  nature  more  exuberant  than  can 
be  imagined  in  the  north,  and  it  may  be  the  ashes 
fertilize  the  soil,  but  I  was  glad  at  least  we  had  the 
ashes  on  our  heads ;  it  seemed  that  someone  mourned. 

In  the  fierce  noonday  sun,  before  we  halted  under  a 
ceiba-tree,1  the  trail  ran  through  a  strip  of  virgin  forest 
that  was  all  on  fire.  The  path  was  narrow  and  at 
times  led  close  beside  great  trees  aflame,  burning 
their  funeral  pyre. 

The  dry  lianas  all  were  flaming,  the  heat  intense, 
the  ashes  suffocating.  Now  and  then  in  the  forest 
a  great  tree  toppled  down  with  a  crash,  and  a 
thick  cloud  of  smoke  went  up  into  the  sky.  The 
horses  snorted,  now  jumping  over  a  charred  log,  and 
now  edging  away  from  one  of  the  tall,  fiery  trees  in 
terror.  Over  our  heads  the  sun  shone  down  like 
brass  and  met  the  heat  that  rose  up  from  the  burning 
wood.  All  was  as  silent  as  the  grave,  except  for  the 
quiet  murmuring  of  the  fire,  for  all  the  birds  and  the 
animals  had  fled,  and  so  we  rode  along,  stifling  and 

1  Bombax  ceiba. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  235 

coughing,  winding  about  a  veritable  purgatory  of 
nature,  made  by  man,  who  in  his  folly,  has  made  for 
nature  and  himself  so  many  purgatories. 

All  the  wide,  open  country  between  Sahagun  and 
the  River  Magdalena,  and  as  far  as  the  Cienega  de 
Ayapel  upon  the  banks  of  the  San  Jorge  River,  is 
where  the  Spaniards  at  the  conquest  found  the 
richest  of  the  Indian  graves.  No  trace  of  them 
exists  to-day,  for  the  first  conquerors  did  their  work 
so  thoroughly  that  there  is  no  tradition  of  any  Indian 
burial-place  having  been  found  again. 

The  plains  were  desolate,  for  all  the  cattle  had 
been  moved  into  the  swamps  along  the  banks  of  the 
San  Jorge  and  the  Magdalena.  Houses  are  few  and 
far  between,  as  is  the  case  in  every  pastoral  country, 
and  as  the  tracks  left  by  the  cattle  on  their  way  down 
to  the  water-holes  intersect  the  road,  itself  a  trail  made 
by  the  feet  of  passing  horses  and  of  mules,  nothing 
is  easier  than  to  go  astray  and  follow  a  wrong  path. 

Just  as  night  fell  we  called  at  a  small  ranche  under 
some  sandhills  near  a  little  stream.  The  owner, 
getting  barebacked  on  his  horse,  showed  us  the  way 
across  the  stream.  Then,  after  taking  half  a  dollar, 
he  gave  directions  that  he  said  were  quite  infallible. 
"  Follow  the  trail,  which  as  you  see  is  clear."  It  was 
scarcely  visible  in  the  bright  moonlight  that  destroys  all 
perspective,  and  all  sense  of  values.  "  Be  sure  to  keep 
the  wind  on  the  left  side  of  you,  and  keep  on  westerly 
by  south.  When  you  get  through  the  medanos1 — 
they  run  about  a  quarter  of  a  league — you  pass  a  dead 
tree  on  the  right.     Leave  it  upon  the  right  and  still 

1  Medanos  =  sandhills. 


236  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

ride  westerly  by  south.  Do  not  forget  the  wind, 
always  on  the  left  side.  Your  horses  seem  a  little 
tired,  don't  kick  them  over  much  or  they  may  tire 
entirely.  That  would  be  awkward,  for  San  Benito  is 
about  four  hours  on.  There  are  no  houses  on  the 
way  except  a  ranche.  It  is  deserted.  Look  out  for 
the  tigers.     Adios,  go  with  God." 

He  turned  his  horse  and  vanished  down  a  sand- 
hill, leaving  us  amazed.  No  wayfarer,  even  although 
a  fool,  could  err  with  such  directions,  and  so  we 
stumbled  on.  Long  did  we  wander  in  the  sandhills, 
that  in  the  moonlight  looked  like  the  Umbrian  Hills 
in  miniature,  riding  down  slopes  and  scrambling  up 
others,  that  in  the  false  light  of  the  moon  appeared 
most  terrible,  though  perhaps  in  the  light  of  day  they 
would  have  been  nothing  but  mere  molehills. 

When  we  emerged  again  upon  the  plains  our 
guide  confessed  that  he  was  lost. 

Though  a  bad  guide,  he  was  a  man  accustomed 
to  the  wilds,  and  lying  down  upon  the  ground  he 
listened  carefully  for  the  sound  of  a  passing  traveller 
or  for  the  barking  of  a  dog.  Then  he  remembered 
that  a  road  ran  from  Corozal  to  Magangue,  and, 
looking  at  the  stars,  said  he  believed  we  were  not  far 
from  it. 

Riding  in  ever-widening  circles,  round  a  man 
with  a  box  of  matches  who  now  and  then  struck  one 
of  them  to  show  us  where  he  was,  we  hit  the  road  at 
a  point  nearly  half  a  mile  away. 

Then,  fixing  on  a  star,  we  rode  towards  it,  keep- 
ing the  wind  on  our  left  side  and  going  to  the  west. 

No  house  appeared  or  the  least  trace  of  any  town. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  237 

The  moonlight  cast  long  shadows  on  the  ground, 
making  the  horses  look  like  camels  and  every  stone  a 
boulder,  turning  the  bushes  into  the  shapes  of  strange, 
fantastic  animals.  The  horses,  that  had  been  fourteen 
or  fifteen  hours  upon  the  road,  had  sweated  and  had 
dried  so  often  that  all  their  coats  were  white  as  if  they 
had  been  sprinkled  with  salt  brine.  They  stumbled 
on  the  stones,  and  when  at  last  we  came  to  a  deserted 
hut  under  a  clump  of  sheltering  bongo-trees  we  put 
up  for  the  night.  There  was  no  water  and  no  food, 
and  all  the  grass  was  dry  and  wiry;  but  a  hungry  horse 
will  attack  any  kind  of  pasture,  and  they  set  at  it  with 
a  will.  Throwing  our  saddles  down  beneath  a  tree, 
and  spreading  a  mosquito  net  above  us,  we  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just — or  of  the  unjust,  for  both  are  equal 
before  sleep. 

Next  morning,  parched  with  thirst  and  hungry, 
we  started  out  upon  the  road,  the  horses  stiff  and  leg- 
weary.  In  two  hours  and  a  half  we  reached  the  town 
of  San  Benito,  and,  riding  up  to  the  house  of  the 
Alcalde,  asked  for  hospitality. 

As  it  fell  out,  that  morning  he  had  sallied  forth  to 
catch  a  thief,  who  had  ensconced  himself,  armed  with 
a  large  knife,  in  a  deserted  house.  We  were  not  in 
the  best  condition  for  what  in  the  wild  portions  of 
Colombia  is  known  as  a  "  molestia " — that  is,  a 
"  trouble  " — but  thought  it  best  to  assist  our  prospec- 
tive host,  with  a  view  of  benefits  to  come.  Slowly 
and  most  unwillingly  we  rode  up  to  the  house 
where  the  thief  had  taken  refuge  and  listened  to  the 
magistrate  summon  the  miscreant  to  yield,  telling  him 
that  the  two  Americans  outside  were  both  armed  to 


238  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

the  teeth  and  would  assist  him  to  the  death.  Either 
his  resolution  failed  him,  or  the  terrors  of  our  name 
unnerved  his  arm,  for  when  the  Alcalde  boldly  went 
inside  the  house,  which  he  did  at  the  peril  of  his  life, 
after  a  scuffle  he  emerged  holding  the  man  by  an 
arm  bent  behind  his  back. 

Thus  was  law  vindicated.  Peace  reigned  once 
more  in  the  town  of  San  Benito,  and  we  sat  down  to 
a  good  breakfast,  whilst  our  horses  munched  their 
corn. 

The  town  of  San  Benito  was  as  much  buried  in 
luxuriant  vegetation  as  one  of  the  Jesuit  "capillas"1 
in  Paraguay.  The  reed-thatched  houses  were  abso- 
lutely covered  to  the  eaves  with  every  kind  of  red 
and  yellow  creeper.  Ropes  of  lianas,  all  in  flower, 
festooned  the  trees,  and  in  the  open  spaces  a  white 
and  purple  striped  convolvulus  carpeted  the  sand. 

The  prisoner  by  this  time  had  come  to  reason  and 
sat  sullenly  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back  in 
what  the  Alcalde  termed  the  "  house  of  malefactors." 
It  was  a  little  hut,  from  which  a  child  might  easily 
have  escaped  by  pulling  down  the  wall. 

However,  as  we  know,  fear  guards  the  vineyard 
more  than  does  the  fence.2 

After  due  compliments  and  thanks,  we  took  our 
way  upon  a  path  that  led  through  swamps  on  which 
grazed  herds  of  cattle,  fat  and  sleek,  in  spite  of  the 
great  drought. 

These  swamps  are  never   dry,  and   in  them  are 

1  Capillas  =  chapel;  but  in  Paraguay  it  is  often  used  to  designate 
whole  villages. 

2  "  Miedo  guarda  vinas,  no  vallado." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  239 

countless  alligators  and    great    flocks  of  wading  and 
aquatic  birds. 

Sometimes  the  road  ran  on  a  narrow  causeway 
between  deep  swamps  where  alligators  basked  in  the 
sun.  As  we  rode  by  they  swam  off  sluggishly.  At 
other  times  the  trail  passed  shallower  swamps  on 
which  fed  cattle,  standing  up  to  their  hocks  in  water 
and  in  mud. 

White  ibises  sat  on  the  cattle's  backs,  swaying  to 
keep  their  balance,  as  a  sailor  sways  upon  a  deck. 
Others  stood  at  the  water's  edge  so  motionless  and 
sacramental-looking,  that  one  saw  at  a  glance  why  the 
Egyptians  worshipped  them. 

Again,  the  track  twisted  out  into  small,  open 
spaces,  three  or  four  hundred  yards  in  breadth. 

A  mile  or  two  away  the  woods  upon  the  banks  of 
the  San  Jorge  River  stood  up  like  a  wall,  blocking  the 
view  towards  the  south.  To  the  west  the  swamps  of 
Ayapel,  at  that  season  of  the  year  packed  with  the 
cattle  moved  from  the  drought-swept  plains,  stretched 
up  towards  the  boundaries  of  Antioquia. 

Now  and  then  herds  of  horses  were  intermingled 
with  the  cattle,  giving  a  look  of  what  the  plains  of 
Africa  must  have  been,  with  herds  of  quaggas  and  of 
gnus,  before  the  advent  of  the  cockney  and  his  battery 
of  guns. 

All  of  a  sudden  we  came  out  on  the  San  Jorge, 
a  broad  and  yellow  stream,  three  or  four  hundred  yards 
in  breadth.  The  bank  on  which  we  stood  was  high 
and  sun-swept.  On  it  were  perched  some  miserable 
huts,  and  underneath  them  ten  or  twelve  canoes,  all 
tied  to  poles  driven  into  the  stream,  rose  and  fell,  lazily. 


240  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Upon  the  other  side  was  a  small  town  buried  in  woods, 
that  seemed  to  block  it  off  from  all  the  world. 

Piling  our  saddles  into  a  long,  crank  dugout, 
and  standing  up  performing  miracles  of  equilibrium, 
as  it  appeared  to  us,  though  any  child  upon  the  river's 
banks  can  walk  in  a  canoe  as  well  as  on  dry  land,  we 
crossed  the  river,  and,  struggling  up  a  staircase  cut 
in  the  hard  mud,  entered  the  town  of  Jegua,  once  a 
thriving  place,  but  fallen  into  decay.  We  passed  the 
siesta  in  the  public  hall,  used  also  as  the  school-house, 
a  dusky  edifice,  whose  walls  were  decorated  with 
German  kindergarten  plates,  but  with  the  text  in 
Spanish,  explaining  all  the  parts  and  particles  of  the 
rhinoceros,  the  camelopard,  and  the  elephant,  "  for 
the  Colombian  youth."  1 

Long  did  we  slumber,  quite  undisturbed  by  the 
mosquitos  that  buzzed  in  myriads  in  the  deserted 
room.  Then,  sallying  out  to  buy  provisions  and  to 
find  some  means  of  transport  down  to  Magangue,  the 
port  upon  the  Magdalena  where  the  river  steamers 
call,  we  found  ourselves  in  difficulties. 

The  one  steam-launch  that  Jegua  boasted  was 
away  upon  a  trip  to  Ayapel  and  not  available.  Upon 
the  bank  that  we  had  quitted  in  the  morning  there 
was  no  trail,  unless  we  had  returned  to  strike  the  road 
from  Corozal,  forty  or  fifty  miles  away. 

Canoes  were  plentiful  and  paddlers  easy  to  be 
found,  as  all  the  population  was,  as  it  were,  amphibious 
and  born  to  the  canoe. 

One    Anastasio    Giron,    described    as    a    "  good, 
faithful  Indian,  one  who  will  not  get  drunk  until  he 
1  "  Para  la  juventud  Colombiana." 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  241 

reaches  Magangue,"  was  recommended  to  us  by  a 
man  in  uniform,  who  may  have  been  some  sort  of  an 
official  in  a  not  improbable  customs-house. 

The  good  and  faithful  Anastasio  was  asleep  be- 
neath the  palm-thatched  roof  of  his  canoe,  his  head  in 
shade,  his  naked  feet  stuck  well  out  in  the  sun.  Since 
my  youth  in  Argentina  I  have  always  been  a  little  shy 
of  breaking  the  slumbers  of  a  male1  white  Christian. 
However,  Anastasio,  though  a  Christian,  as  a  scapulary 
showed  hung  round  his  walnut-coloured  neck,  was 
certainly  not  white. 

This  fact  removed  all  hesitation  on  my  part. 
When  he  was  well  awake,  and  after  swallowing  some 
rum  from  a  small  calabash  that  he  produced,  and  after 
salutations  which  were  not  short,  we  fell  a-chaffering. 
It  seemed  that  the  canoe,  in  Anastasio's  phrase, 
"  gained  two  dollars  gold  a  day."  This  seemed 
excessive,  and  for  "gold"  I  substituted  "silver,"  exactly 
half  the  price.  This  must  have  been  far  above  the 
usual  tariff,  for  the  owner  jumped  at  it,  only  requiring 
half  to  be  paid  at  once.  I  feared  the  calabash  would 
be  refilled,  but  turning  round  he  gave  the  money  to 
an  Indian  woman  who  he  said  was  his  wife.  How 
she  appeared  upon  the  scene  I  never  knew  or  ever 
shall  know,  but  perhaps,  whilst  we  were  bargaining, 
she  had  glided  up,  her  shoeless  feet  making  no  sound 
upon  the  sand. 

Our  saddles  and  our  bags  filled  at  least  half  of  the 
thatched  awning  in  the  middle  of  the  canoe,  leaving 
us  barely  room  to  shelter  from  the  sun.  A  Syrian 
who  kept  a  little  store  sold  us  some  sardines,  some 

1  Un  Cristiano  Macho. 

16 


242  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

biscuits,  and  half  a  dozen  bottles  of  light  beer  and 
half  a  dozen  more  of  kola,  with  a  bundle  of  cigars. 
Thus  being  furnished  for  the  voyage,  we  waited  till 
the  sun  was  low,  and  Anastasio  and  his  mate,  a 
lathy,  Indian  youth,  who  he  professed  was  "  born  to 
paddle,  just  as  a  mule  is  born  to  carry  packs,"  we 
pushed  into  the  stream.  No  single  soul  stood  on  the 
bank  to  witness  our  departure,  yet  I  am  certain  that 
every  mortal  in  the  little  town  was  watching  it,  and  in 
years  to  come  will  talk  about  myself  and  of  my 
secretary,  describe  our  clothes  and  saddles,  and  will  say, 
I  hope,  that  for  Americanos  we  were  almost  Christians. 
A  few  strokes  of  the  paddle  took  us  round  the  bend 
and  out  of  sight  of  Jegua,  which  disappeared  into  the 
overwhelming  woods,  as  if  it  had  never  existed,  or  had 
been  blotted  out. 

The  evening  breeze  blew  pleasantly  as  we  sat  on 
the  top  of  the  straw  shelter  in  the  middle  of  the  canoe, 
eating  the  provisions  that  we  had  laid  in  at  Jegua, 
and  the  voyage  promised  well.  The  paddlers  seemed 
untirable,  just  as  a  fresh  horse  seems  untirable  when 
he  begins  his  course. 

Soon  the  breeze  fell,  the  moon  shone  out  and  lit 
the  river,  turning  it  from  the  turbid  yellow  that  it 
was  in  sunlight  into  a  sheet  of  silver,  that  mirrored 
the  tall  trees  whose  shadows  seemed  to  penetrate  into 
vast  depths  of  water  and  of  shade.  The  fireflies 
played  about  the  bushes,  and  now  and  then  a  night 
bird  flew  above  our  heads,  uttering  a  hoarse  cry. 
For  several  miles  we  floated  gently  down  the  stream, 
the  paddlers  by  degrees  becoming  listless,  even  the 
youth  who  "  was  born  to  paddle  "  taking  a  perfunctory 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  243 

stroke  at  intervals.  At  last  sleep  overtook  them,  and 
they  lay  their  paddles  in-board  and  fell  asleep,  sitting 
upon  the  floor  of  the  canoe.  We  must  have  also  slept, 
for  we  were  roused  in  an  hour  or  two  by  the  canoe 
sticking  its  nose  into  the  bank.  This  roused  the 
paddlers,  who  feared  the  current  would  upset  the 
dugout.  Their  voices  roused  us  to  find  that  we  had 
come  out  in  a  clearing  in  the  woods  of  several  miles 
in  length.  We  landed  to  stretch  our  legs  and 
reconnoitre,  and  found  ten  or  a  dozen  horses  feeding 
peacefully. 

One  of  them  was  so  tame  that  I  walked  up  to 
pat  him,  but  he  became  uneasy,  snorted,  and  moved 
away.  I  see  him  now,  and  always  shall,  a  roan  with 
three  white  feet  and  a  white  nose,  and  could,  if 
necessary,  draw  his  brand  from  memory.  Cattle  fed 
farther  off,  but  to  approach  them  for  a  man  on  foot 
would  have  been  dangerous,  especially  at  night. 
The  canoe  had  grounded  not  far  from  where  the  forest 
bounded  the  clearing,  and  in  the  moonlight  the  trees 
formed  a  continuous  wall  so  black  and  solid-looking 
that  it  seemed  made  of  masonry.  We  re-embarked, 
refreshed,  drank  the  last  bottles  of  the  kola,  and  for  an 
hour  sat  smoking,  lulled  by  the  current  lapping  up 
against  the  side  of  the  canoe  and  by  the  plashing  of 
the  paddles  as  they  dipped  regularly. 

We  slipped  down  once  again  between  dark  woods 
without  a  trace  of  human  habitation.  Once  a  large 
animal  crossed  swimming,  not  far  in  front  of  us.  It 
may  have  been  a  tapir  or  a  capybara,  but  when  it  saw 
us  it  swam  instinctively  into  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
leaving  a  gentle  ripple  as  it  passed.     The  Southern 


244  CARTAGENA  DE  IND1AS 

Cross  hung  in  the  sky  above  our  heads,  Sirius  gleamed 
redly,  and  all  the  stars  seemed  to  shoot  beams  of 
softest  light  into  the  water  in  the  still  tropic  night. 

Occasionally,  but  rarely,  sounds  of  wild  animals 
came  from  the  recesses  of  the  everglades.  It  seemed 
that  we,  afloat  in  our  canoe,  were  the  sole  inhabitants 
of  an  unpeopled  world,  alone  with  destiny.  Once  more 
sleep  overcame  us,  but  still  we  drifted  on.  Two  or  three 
times  I  woke  and  looked  out  on  the  interminable 
woods.  The  boatmen  both  were  sleeping  bowed  over 
their  paddles,  and  once  when  I  looked  up,  my  secretary 
was  paddling,  seated  beside  the  slumbering  Indian. 

The  night  wore  on,  and  so  we  passed  it,  sleeping, 
and  waking  fitfully,  now  paddling  for  a  space,  now 
drifting  noiselessly.  At  last  I  woke,  dripping  with 
dew  and  stiff,  to  find  the  world  all  buried  in  white 
mist.  We  were  afloat  upon  a  ghostly  river.  The 
trees  appeared  gigantic,  seen  through  the  steaming 
cauldron.  The  Southern  Cross  had  set,  and  the  chill 
in  the  air  showed  that  the  day  was  just  about  to  break. 

Little  by  little  a  faint  glow  of  red  appeared,  and 
the  mist  slowly  disappeared.  As  the  sun  rose,  in  the 
fresh  air  of  the  new  day,  we  found  ourselves  drifting 
between  two  sandbanks,  with  shallows  stretching  out 
between  them,  peopled  by  myriads  of  cormorants. 
They  seemed  asleep,  for  as  we  noiselessly  were  wafted 
past,  none  of  them  stirred  from  where  it  stood.  Almost 
immediately  the  sun's  rays  shone  upon  the  stream, 
and  then  a  miracle  occurred — one  of  those  miracles 
that  Nature  sometimes  exhibits  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  seek  her  out,  or  chance  to  stray,  as  we  had  done, 
to  her  remotest  haunts. 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  245 

Myriads  and  myriads  of  fish  leaped  up  into  the 
air.  The  water  boiled  with  them,  and  the  sun  shone 
upon  their  silvery  sides.  Fish,  three  or  four  feet  long, 
shot  up  into  the  air  and  fell  into  the  water  with 
a  resounding  crash.  Fish,  of  the  size  of  herrings, 
shot  up  gracefully,  their  bodies  bent  in  a  half 
circle,  and  disappeared  again  so  quickly  that  we 
rubbed  our  eyes,  to  make  sure  that  they  had  really 
leaped  and  disappeared. 

Millions  of  fish,  the  size  of  minnows,  put  their 
heads  up  into  the  air,  and  made  a  tiny  caper  as  if  they 
too  wished  to  salute  the  sun.  The  water  boiled ; 
showers  of  spray  darted  up  and  fell  upon  the  floor  of 
the  canoe.  It  seemed  a  universal  act  of  adoration  of 
the  sun  by  all  the  fish,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  that 
ever  swam  in  the  San  Jorge  River,  since  the  first 
conquest  of  the  land  or  the  beginning  of  the  world. 

The  miracle,  for  I  maintain  it  surely  was  one — that 
is,  if  miracles  in  their  real  essence  are  but  the  triumph 
of  the  forces  that  Nature  holds  deep  buried  in  her 
womb — lasted  but  a  few  minutes,  and  then  the  fish, 
as  if  tired  of  the  upper  air,  or  as  if  their  duty  was 
discharged,  all  disappeared  into  their  natural  element. 

It  left  us  wondering.  Even  the  stolid  Indian 
boatmen  were  astonished,  and  one  said,  "  Jesus,  what 
a  world  of  fish  !" 

Then  they  bent  to  their  paddles  sturdily,  whilst 
we  sat  underneath  the  "  toldo"1  sheltering  from  the 
sun. 

In  a  few  hours  we  passed  the  mouth  of  the  great 

1  Awning  or  tent. 


246  CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS 

Cauca  River,  then  ran  into  the  Magdalena,  more  than 
a  mile  in  breadth. 

Great  barges,  known  as  bongos,  crept  along  the 
banks,  propelled  by  crews  of  Indian  punters,  and  rafts  a 
hundred  feet  in  length  swept  down  the  current,  with 
whole  families  camped  upon  the  logs. 

Long,  arrow-like  canoes  shot  out  occasionally 
with  a  man  standing  in  the  stern,  like  a  Venetian 
gondolier. 

Great  herds  of  cattle  fed  upon  the  banks,  and  now 
and  then  a  swart  vaquero,  swinging  his  lazo,  rounded 
them  up,  galloping  furiously.  On  every  sandbank 
there  were  basking  alligators,  log-like  but  watchful, 
whose  little  eyes,  sunk  in  their  scaly  foreheads,  seemed 
immovable.  The  forest  upon  both  banks  of  the  river 
towered  high  above  us,  making  us  feel  as  small  in  our 
canoe  as  ants  afloat  upon  a  water-lily  leaf,  feeble  and 
impotent  to  cope  with  the  gigantic  vegetation  that 
seemed  antagonistic  to  mankind. 

The  fierce  sun  blazed  upon  the  water,  which 
reflected  it  upon  our  faces  as  through  a  magnifying 
glass,  and  still  we  paddled  on. 

Then,  passing  round  an  elbow  of  the  stream  meet- 
ing the  influx  of  a  creek,  that  raised  a  little  seaway,  in 
which  we  tossed  about  in  the  canoe  like  a  log  tosses 
in  the  surf  upon  a  beach,  we  came  upon  the  town  as 
if  by  accident.  Built  upon  piles  and  looking  like  a 
Dyak  village  in  the  Straits  of  Singapore,  the  town  of 
Magangue  lay  sweltering,  half  buried  in  the  haze. 
We  had  come  into  our  port.  Canoes  and  horses; 
old-world  towns;  the  infinite,  wide  plains;  the  forests 
all  bedecked  with  orchids  and  lianas  ;  the  heat,  the 


CARTAGENA  DE  INDIAS  247 

morning  chill,  and  the  discomforts  of  the  road,  with 
all  that  these  things  mean  to  a  traveller,  when  at  home 
he  muses  by  the  fire,  had  become  memories. 

Next    day  saw  us  aboard  a  high-decked,  stern- 
wheel  steamer,  on  our  passage  to  the  coast. 


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